


The Way Back

by Baamon5evr



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Charles, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon - Comics & Movie Combination, Canon Divergence - Post X-Men: First Class (2011), Canonical Character Death, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Charles is a Mess, Charles-centric, Communication, Complicated Relationships, Dialogue Light, Drug Abuse, Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a fertile mofo, Getting Back Together, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Mpreg, Parent Charles Xavier, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Raven | Mystique is Kurt Wagner's Parent, Recovery, References to Depression, Romani Wanda Maximoff, Spoiler: He Gets Tons of Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 53,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: Erik doesn’t leave Charles alone on that beach in Cuba. Ten years and a whole lot of alcohol later, Charles finds himself in the same position again.[Story follows the events after First Class then goes through and after Days of Future Past as Charles falls apart, puts himself back together, has a few kids, brings his dream to fruition and finally gets on the same page with Erik, (not necessarily in that order)]
Relationships: David Haller & Charles Xavier, Django Maximoff/Marya Maximoff, Elizabeth Braddock & Charles Xavier, Emma Frost & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Kurt Wagner & Charles Xavier, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff & Charles Xavier, past Erik Lehnsherr/Magda - Relationship, past Erik Lehnsherr/Natalya Maximoff
Comments: 35
Kudos: 295





	1. 1962 - 1973

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is partly an excuse for me to give a shoutout to all of Erik’s numerous children from various comic universes, but also after watching DOFP recently, I have discovered how much I actually love Angry & Bitter!Charles. I have also recently let go of my vehement hatred of Mpreg, so I figured why not combine them. Fair warning, this is a dialogue light fic. Erik and Charles’ relationship, while permeating the entire fic and the overall mood that Charles thinks in, I don’t get into the nitty gritty of rebuilding that relationship until chapter four. I wanted to put Charles as a character before Cherik as a relationship, but fear not, if you stick around, we’ll get into it.
> 
> The first chapter has a bit of a vignette style as we go through the ten years between XMFC and DOFP. I try to keep it as close to canon as possible though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles learns that Erik didn’t leave him alone on that beach, but the new addition to his life doesn’t stop his demons from haunting him.

When Hank first tells him, Charles gives it just as much credence as he believes it deserves at the time, which is none.

It’s obvious that Hank has made a mistake. Some tests had come back with anomalous results and Hank, being a man with a curious mind, jumped to ridiculous conclusions. It _is_ absurd and Charles is concerned that Hank can’t see that for himself. Charles has spent his entire life secure in the constant and straightforward fact that he is a male individual. Being such, pregnancy is well and truly out of the cards for him, and happily so. But Hank, wonderful, inquisitive and silly Hank, who turned himself blue trying to get rid of his oversized feet, would be the only person to suggest that something this impossible is possible.

Charles doesn’t do what he wants to, which is laugh in Hank’s face. He feels a surge of guilt. Hank has been overworking himself, trying to hold the house together after… after. He has been taking care of Charles as he’s adjusted to his newfound paralysis, trying to cure himself of his new blue visage and helping to temper Alex and Sean’s large, often clashing, personalities. When Charles started to feel ill, he didn’t initially want to burden Hank with it. It became impossible to hide when he rolled his infernal wheelchair into the kitchen one day, took one whiff of the eggs Sean was making, and promptly vomited into his own lap.

That would be a gratifying memory for years to come.

Hank ordered tests, and Charles was ready to hear any number of things. He mainly attributed it to his spine injury, but here Hank is, telling him he is pregnant.

Instead of laughing, Charles gives him a look, tells him to come to him when he has a reasonable result, and rolls back to the elevator so he can get back to his bed (and the decanter of brandy on his nightstand).

Hank spends the next two weeks trying fruitlessly to convince Charles that he is pregnant. Charles persists in his valid disbelief. He didn’t much care why he was ill, to be honest. What he wants is to stay in bed with his father’s old liquor close so he can drown his sorrows. It’s funny, he never quite appreciated his mother’s mission to drain the Xavier alcohol stores until now. If they’ve done nothing else, his useless legs, erstwhile lover, and absent sister have allowed him to understand Sharon more than he ever did when she was alive.

Charles does not concede to Hank until the baby makes himself known. It is small at first, a nagging in the back of Charles’ head that he can’t place. It’s so faint and formless that he doesn’t quite believe it exists. Despite his desire to ignore it, the shapeless consciousness grows louder and louder every day, an invisible presence that is so bright, the splendor of it is cloying, overwhelming him with the constancy of the unmitigated warmth. The specter is inside him, not outside, not in the faint distance, it’s part of him no matter how much he wishes to reject it.

And so, he puts his father’s liquor back where he found it and wheels himself to Hank’s lab with all the trepidation of a man going to face his own execution.

**~*~*~**

None of the boys ask who the other father is (that is once they realize that Charles is not the Virgin Mary reincarnated and so there must be another father). He can hear them wondering about it and about him. Alex’s jail history gives him pause about Charles’ sexual orientation, but the boys’ discomfort seems to be tempered somewhat with pity over his current health predicaments (and Hank’s pleas that Charles is simply mentally ill and can’t control that he is wrong in that way). He would be angry about it if it wasn’t better than the alternatives: being reviled for his sexual preferences and his biological anomalies, or abandoned thanks to his apparent shortcomings... again. But despite any negative feelings, the boys stay without asking uncomfortable questions.

Charles is grateful that he doesn’t have to say it out loud, any of it. No one knew about him and Erik, not even Raven. It was for necessities’ sake before, but now he is glad he doesn’t have to bear the full weight of the boys’ pitying looks for that as well. Besides, he’s not quite sure what it would do to him to hear the truth outside of the confines of his own mind.

**~*~*~**

David has Erik’s eyes. It’s one of the first things Charles notices about his son as he holds him. David’s heterochromia has given him one grey eye and one green eye, but somehow, they both look like Erik’s.

The pregnancy had not been pleasant. Secondary mutation or not, he is still a man and a paralyzed one at that. His healing back had felt like it was collapsing under the new weight inside him. There was nothing to be done because alcohol was out of the question, and strong painkillers could hurt the baby. He had spent weeks on bedrest, oscillating between debilitating illness that saw him with his head in a bucket constantly and raw pain wracking his body. That was when he was actually able to retain consciousness. He averaged about four hours of wakefulness in the latter months, usually sleeping his days away.

When he was awake, he spent his time contemplating his family, past and inevitable future. He’s certain his parents wouldn’t have been thrilled about his delicate condition. A telepath for a son is one thing, but a freak against the most basic law of biology, and a queer at that? Distasteful would be an understatement. And Kurt? He would have a field day. That was saying nothing of Cain. Even Raven would probably be disturbed about his pregnancy at the very least.

Maybe it’s for the best she’s gone. He doesn’t think he could’ve taken hearing just how disgusted she was. He’s gotten it enough from Alex’s thoughts. His pity and guilt mixed with disturbance and abhorrence of Charles and what he was and what he had done was headache-inducing. The psionic shrapnel was just as volatile for him as his various physical challenges and certainly hadn’t helped ease his pain and suffering.

Sean was much less venomous about it. He had an extensive family with a queer uncle or two. He was more exposed to homosexuality and thus not as afraid of it, hateful or judgmental. Sean’s hang-ups came from Charles choosing Erik of all people. He never understood the older man. His extroverted personality clashed with the misanthropic, quietly menacing persona of his former tutor. He couldn’t picture Charles, optimistic, people-loving Charles, choosing Erik and not realizing they were bound to crash and burn.

Hank’s interest in the pregnancy veers decidedly scientific. It made Charles feel like an experiment. He got terrible flashbacks of Kurt forcing him into the bunker, putting him and Cain through stress tests and whatever else he deemed appropriate at the time for the sake of innovation.

In light of this, it had been Sean who was providing the most moral support. He had fluffed his pillows, cleaned his vomit, massaged his back. He made sure Charles ate, helped him bathe and wash his hair. He talked to him to distract him from the pain since conversations with Alex had become stilted, and Hank only wanted to record every facet of the pregnancy for posterity. It was Sean who asked about Charles’ childhood and made him think of his parents and what they taught him about being a parent.

In a short answer: not much. He didn’t know them well. His father worked a lot and died when Charles was young. His mother had been an alcoholic who preferred to spend her time with her liquor rather than her family. There were times during his pregnancy when Charles was wondering if he would be a good parent, that he remembered his father rubbing Charles’ aching temples with patient fingers or his mother gifting him with rare smiles of grief-tinged fondness at an academic achievement, and he wondered what he truly ever knew about his parents. Much less than he thought he knew about his new family, and he had been wrong about them too, or they wouldn’t have left him here alone.

Well, not entirely.

He cradles David in his arms tightly, his impossible boy. This child who, while he gestated inside of him, Charles vacillated between being nonplussed and repelled at his existence, conflicted over having irrefutable proof that, once upon a time, Charles and Erik were in love and hopeful, even if not happy. Or at least Charles was. He can’t remember now what impressions he got from Erik about their relationship. Maybe Erik was just using him the whole time as a useful ally to have against Sebastian Shaw, a telepath who could literally shut his greatest enemy down so Erik could shove a coin through Shaw’s, and consequently Charles’, head.

But that doesn’t matter. David has nothing to do with that Charles realizes as he stares down at him, brushing his fingers over the light dusting of dark brown hair. David is guiltless, so very small, fragile, and trusting. His life is literally in Charles’ hands. That is scarier to him than anything he ever has or ever will face. He could break this poor little thing so easily without even intending to. Yet, he can’t fathom sending him away to an orphanage or finding some lonely, kind couple to raise him like Hank suggested because David is his and he is Erik’s. Charles fell in love with him the second he saw his innocent, familiar green-grey eyes.

“I won’t leave you, my darling boy. I will never leave you,” Charles tells him.

He doesn’t know if that’s a promise he should make. Who says his son needs a depressed cripple weighing him down? But Charles is all he has, so he’ll try to be enough.

**~*~*~**

He considers telling Erik about David.

Erik is a hard man to find nowadays. He has Shaw’s helmet and Emma, who shields his group, and Azazel, who keeps them moving. It would take extended hours in Cerebro and days of migraines after, which would lead to Charles projecting his misery throughout the mansion. Not the best thing to do when there was an infant there whose mind was still shaping itself. Charles casting anything untoward in the baby’s head could threaten that development, and any threat to David, including ones from him, cannot be taken lightly. Finding Erik with Cerebro might not even work.

It doesn’t seem worth the effort. David isn’t alone. He has Charles. Despite his reservations during the pregnancy, every day that he wakes up and sees his son peering up at him with trusting eyes, feels the uncomplicated impressions of infantile affection, is another day he can’t regret anything that happened. It’s led him to have love in his life unlike anything he ever imagined possible for him. David also has Hank, Sean, and Alex. Any misgivings or aversion to Charles and Erik’s relationship does not seem to have transferred to David. The boys adore him, would spend all day entertaining him, or cooing over him, or generally spoiling him if Charles let them. David has no lack of care or love or attention. He also has Erik’s last name as well as Charles’. One day David might ask about that, and what will Charles say?

_“Oh, that? Well, I didn’t feel like dealing with your father’s BS, so I never got around to telling him about you.”_

He’s sure that’ll go over well. There is also the tiny fact that Erik is becoming known as an international terrorist. Inviting him back to the mansion feels counterintuitive to keeping his child safe. Who knows what trouble Erik will bring with him, ultimately threatening the lives of everyone at the manor?

All that is separate from the matter of whether Erik would be a good father. Charles doesn’t have a doubt about that. Erik didn’t like to talk about his past much, especially that hazy time between when he escaped Auschwitz and met Charles, but there were small moments when Erik would impress his memories of little Anya into Charles’ head. He saw instances where Erik would read to her, sing her lullabies, use his powers to entertain her, or carry her around like his little accessory. The love he had for his daughter was undeniable through the memories, as was the grief he felt at her death.

Charles doesn’t know if he can handle the guilt he’ll feel keeping Erik’s child from him when he has already lost one, but he still feels all his reasons are valid. Erik is reckless. He is consumed by his rage and need to exact vengeance beyond reason. Charles can understand to some extent, in the way he’s always been able to understand Erik, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t a clear and present danger. The man he was with Anya and Magda is different than the man he will be with David and Charles. Erik was settled down, living a life of domesticity and obscurity with his wife and child because that was what he wanted then. Charles doesn’t see Erik abandoning his crusade for anything in the world. He certainly had no problem leaving Charles behind, he doesn’t think he can take it if he has to watch Erik turn his back on David too.

Beyond that, Charles doesn’t think he can invite Erik here if it means he’ll lose Hank, Sean and Alex. No, he and Alex are not as close as they were before the pregnancy, but the boys still trust him. They still see Charles as a guiding star, someone who has the answers for what their lives as mutants can and should be. He could disabuse them of that notion, but it keeps them here with him just as much as any sense of loyalty does. He doubts they would be able to reconcile their biases when it comes to Erik as successfully as they have with Charles and David. He doesn’t want things to come to a fight, not in the mansion. Charles has already begun making plans for his former home, to transform it from just the site of painful childhood memories into a haven for mutantkind. Between him and the boys, they can achieve it. That is a sure thing. Erik is not.

David is six months old when Erik is arrested for the assassination of the President of the United States. Charles is so relieved to have the choice taken out of his hands that he doesn’t bother to confirm whether it’s true or not. The bullet curved. All four of them agree that Erik must be involved somehow. That is evidence enough to convince him not to willingly put himself and his son in the line of fire with that man again. David doesn’t deserve to be an innocent bystander in Erik’s battles. Charles will never let that happen to him again.

**~*~*~**

He decides to open the school sooner rather than later. He needs to move on and live his life without worrying over Erik or Raven. He has no other choice.

He gathers students. Bright children with brighter gifts who are so frightened of themselves and the world. It makes Charles’ chest ache that they look to him for guidance, mess that he is, and they seem to find it. Their parents and loved ones think him a savior, a lifeline in the middle of the sea. These children depend on him almost as much as David does.

David, who Charles took one look at when he was born and knew he would be a mutant, so he isn’t too surprised when one night, David’s mind latches onto his with such intensity that it very nearly causes Charles to be locked out of his own head. He manages to wrestle control of himself back and tries to make David understand, as much as a two-year-old can understand, what appropriate cerebral contact looks like. He has to place mental shields on everyone in the manor after several mishaps where David unwittingly crashes into the brains of students, then panics once he’s there, almost ripping their minds to shreds in his desperate attempt to escape the confines of a head that isn’t his.

Charles must lock him in the bunker for two weeks while he tries to get a handle on his telepathy. The efforts leave him drained, but it’s for his son, so he persists in trying to hammer techniques into his little brain.

Eventually, he decides it won’t take. David is too young to grasp the concepts Charles needs him to. He can hardly string a grammatically correct sentence together, how can Charles explain the concepts of shielding and projecting amongst other essentials to him? He locks his ability away deep inside him until they both can handle it.

Charles can hear insidious thoughts in his ear, a voice accusing him of being arrogant, of playing God, of turning his back on his fellow mutants, being a weak coward who would force yet another family member to hide. The voice sounds disconcertingly like Raven. Charles feels shame beyond equivalence.

The night he locks David’s powers away is the first night he picks up a liquor bottle since he realized he was pregnant. The amber drink slithers down his throat with the warm embrace of an old friend.

**~*~*~**

The school only lasts two more years after that. They never quite recover from the scandal caused by the encounters between David and the students. It startles the parents enough that many pull their children from the school, even though Charles was able to set those affected back to rights. It hurts, but he understands.

Then the draft for the Vietnam War starts.

Sean is drafted. Alex is too, along with several of the older students. Two of the teachers Charles hired, one human and the other mutant, are drafted and the two men run off to Canada together. He can’t blame them, but a school isn’t much of a school without students and teachers.

Sean is terrified of the prospect of going to war. Charles can’t bring himself to reassure him. He’s never seen a battlefield personally, having been spared deployment during the Korean War, but Erik’s memories of war are present in his mind, so Charles thinks he ought to exercise restraint for once and keep his mouth shut. Alex is strangely silent about it all, only saying,

“Hey, it’s not the first time we’ve seen battle, is it?”

He says it flatly, but Charles hears an accusation in it. 

Maybe he was just fishing for it, or it’s the arrogance Raven always accused him of raising its ugly head. It makes his fingers itch to wrap around the neck of a bottle.

“Why do they have to leave?” David asks him later when Sean and Alex are packing.

“Because men with more power than us say they must,” Charles says with a bitterness he doesn’t attempt to hide because he’s never lied to David (at least not explicitly, he doesn’t count lies of omission).

“But _you’re_ powerful, Papa,”

“Not that kind of power.”

The four-year-old doesn’t ask him to clarify, and Charles is grateful. The little boy steps closer to his wheelchair and wrinkles his nose just the slightest. He wonders if his son can smell the liquor wafting off him. He had dreamt of his first time with Erik last night, their desperate bodies grinding against one another in a motel room. Charles had woken up to a gunshot ringing in his ears, yet he had felt almost aroused, which was saying something considering how much work it takes to get him going nowadays. Another thing Erik took from him. He needed a full bottle to chase the memory away.

He clutches David close in his lap when Sean and Alex drive away and hopes he’s not squeezing too tightly, but he doesn’t ask if he is and doesn’t loosen his hold either.

He shuts the school down not long after that.

**~*~*~**

When Sean dies, Charles doesn’t go to the funeral.

He can’t sit in front of Sean’s grieving family and stare at the empty casket and believe that there was nothing he could’ve done, because that’s not true. He could’ve had Sean and Alex and the other draftees stay, and when the police or army officials came looking, he could’ve used his powers to make them leave. He didn’t, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of why. If he goes to that funeral, Sean’s parents will look at him, and they will accuse him of playing a part in their son’s death. They will be right. So, he stays in bed, gets wasted, and sobs into the same pillows Sean fluffed for him when he didn’t have to, remembers how Sean remained a stalwart friend even when Hank and Alex drifted. This is how Charles has repaid him. He cries until his throat feels like it’s been rubbed raw.

Time slips by strangely in his drunken haze. The alcohol throws Charles’ telepathy out of whack, makes it unbalanced and fuzzy. He thinks of it akin to a person with tinnitus. Sometimes his power rings through his head with perfect clarity, sometimes it’s too loud and other times too soft. It gives him a headache. He drinks more to try to ignore it.

When he wakes up, David is curled up in bed with him, tears staining his cheeks as he stares into the distance. He’s thinking about Sean, who acted more like a fun-loving big brother than a disciplinarian to him. Sean let David get away with all kinds of things, led him into mischief, had been his biggest comfort over the years. Now Sean is a bloating corpse in an exotic jungle. Suddenly, Charles is glad David doesn’t have his telepathy. The poor boy would probably be in convulsions just from Charles’ maudlin thoughts alone, saying nothing of Hank’s.

He wipes his son’s face and holds him close, lets him cry into his chest. He thinks it’s the first time he’s hugged him since Sean and Alex left a year before, but he can’t remember for sure.

**~*~*~**

Hank says the serum will let him walk again, says he’ll be able to keep up with David and do all the things he’s been missing. The younger man is so desperate to make Charles feel better. He’s noticed the constant smell of liquor over the past years, has noticed Charles drifting away from him and David, retreating into himself. David is six and doesn’t understand what’s happening, but Hank does. His pitying thoughts towards Charles is almost worse than David’s confusion.

Charles wishes he was stronger, that he could be better for David, but he wasn’t a whole person when he had him in the first place. Most days he’s surprised he is capable of love at all. Because he does, he loves his son with all that’s in him. It is because he loves him that he cannot do what would probably be best and leave him in the care of someone better adjusted than him.

He gets a crazy thought of finding Moira and planting the idea of David in her head. She would love him, mutant or not, and David would have a mother, which would be infinitely better than the two fathers he has: one a cripple carrying on the family legacy of alcoholism and the other a terrorist imprisoned for killing the beacon of what could’ve been a time of peace and prosperity in this country.

Unexpectedly, he remembers what Erik told him their last night together.

_Peace was never an option._

He suddenly wants to smash his liquor bottle in that devastating man’s face. He thinks it would make him feel a lot better.

**~*~*~**

David hates him or is, at the very least, embarrassed of him. And why wouldn’t he be?

Charles can hear the thoughts of the parents and children when he picks David up from school (because he’s always too drunk or high, too unfocused to teach him at home and Hank hasn’t the time). They think he’s a drug addict or an alcoholic, which, top marks, right on both of those. They think he’s a hippie, which he supposes Erik would’ve said he was, or a naïve pacifist if nothing else. They think he’s a bad influence on his son.

He caught David sniffing a liquor bottle a few weeks ago, cringing from the taste of the golden liquid on his tongue. Charles had snatched it from the eight-year-old and shouted at him until it hurt. By the time Hank emerged from the lab and stopped Charles’ tirade, his voice was hoarse, and David was crying quietly across from him. Hank’s disappointment was not new, but the wounded look David gave him before running to his room was.

It made him think of Kurt and all the times he terrified him. Just the idea that Charles was anything like his wretched, abusive stepfather had driven him to drink until he felt better about the mild fear his son had of him. He passed out before he ever reached that feeling.

**~*~*~**

Though Charles hasn’t restored David’s powers, he has made sure to hone his son’s shielding skills, and so rarely does anything he doesn’t want Charles to hear slip through, but sometimes Charles can hear David missing him, the old Charles. He knows that means he’s horrible now because he wasn’t great from the very beginning. Even as an infant, Hank, Sean, and Alex picked up more slack than Charles was willing to admit. Sometimes, he can hear David wondering if Charles loves him or even knows anything about him at all, and it hurts.

David is such a sweet boy, the best child one could ask for. He is wicked smart and empathetic. He loves helping others and has a deep sense of sympathy for broken things. There isn’t a stray in the world that David wouldn’t want to adopt. Beyond that, he is so forgiving and eager to please. Charles knows it’s partly a product of his neglect. David tries to stay out of his way, cleans up after himself and does things he thinks will make Charles smile. He learned the entirety of Dr. King’s “I Have A Dream” speech so he could show it off to Charles in hopes of approval. He taught himself to play “Claire De Lune” on the piano to impress him. He gets Charles thoughtful gifts every birthday and Father’s Day. Sometimes he curls up in bed with him unbidden on Charles’ worst days and doesn’t ever complain when he holds him too tightly, or drunkenly rambles about how shit he is, how shit life is, what a mistake falling in love is, and David is the only good thing in the world. He figures the way he slurs his speech and the venom with which he spews his words takes away any positive effect that affirming statement could hope to have.

Despite the disappointment pervading the boy’s thoughts, he never vocalizes it because he loves Charles. He forgives Charles almost immediately when he shouts at him or forgets some school event or sleeps through his birthday because he loves him. He defends Charles to his friends at school and to Hank, excuses almost everything he does, because he loves Charles so much. The saccharine sentiments he can glean from David’s thoughts are practically sickly sweet in its overpowering nature. Charles shies away from it, from David, because he doesn’t deserve his love or forgiveness. He should probably talk to his son about it, make sure he knows none of this is his fault, but he fears he’ll say the wrong thing, so he doesn’t.

 _This is all Erik’s fault_ , he thinks not for the first time.

It’s been festering in him for years, this hatred and anger he has for Erik now, a giant ball of spite that has no outlet to be released upon.

Erik left him on a beach in fucking Cuba with two hostile navies on one side and a hostile Communist regime on the other, bleeding out and paralyzed from a bullet Erik put in his back after Charles allowed himself to be party to murder and feel a man die in his head. To add insult to injury, Erik took his sister, the person Charles has spent the longest time loving and protecting, and left Charles on his own with a child so he could go play at being an activist, when he was really nothing more than a fucking terrorist, and now he’s in prison. Raven is nowhere to be found, Sean is dead, Alex is gone, and so is the school. If Charles thinks hard enough, that can be Erik’s fault too.

If he were in the mood to be fair, he’d remember that he told Raven to leave and implied Erik should too. But then, when has Erik ever done anything just because someone told him to, much less Charles? If he wanted to stay, he would’ve stayed. If he knew Charles, he would’ve realized that he wasn’t thinking straight on account of the coin Erik shoved through his head, the bullet Erik lodged in his back and the ugly fucking helmet Erik was wearing tearing into the psionic wounds in Charles’ head. Charles was in pain. He needed time to breathe and think, and he couldn’t with Erik there, so he needed him gone. Only for a moment, a couple of minutes, a day at the most, not forever. Erik should’ve known that. Charles would’ve known. So, fuck fairness. It eats away at him, leaves only the rot, so Charles has nothing to offer anyone else much less David. 

He thinks of how bright David is and hates himself for not giving him his best, so he drinks. He thinks of his relationship with Erik and wonders how it could’ve been as wrong and hateful as Charles has made it out to be if they could create David. He wonders about the good that he saw in Erik and that conflicts with how much loathing he feels for him now, and he has to drink more. He thinks of Raven and how he failed her, his mother’s benign neglect, his father’s suicide, Kurt’s hard fists, Cain’s harsh words, Sean’s body not laid to rest, and Darwin suffering the same fate before him. He thinks of all the small and large rejections that he thought he buried but resurface now: that ex-girlfriend that cheated on him, that ex-boyfriend who thought Charles was desperate and clingy, that ex-professor who touched him too intimately, all those people who harshly rebuffed him because of his telepathy or his sexual proclivities and he has to drink.

Added to that is the guilt, despair and heartache of those around him thinking about the husband or brother or cousin who is deployed and hasn’t written in weeks, the bill that needs paying, the child they desperately want, the wife who is pulling away, the boyfriend who is cheating, the landlord who is swindling them, the sibling that hates them, the neighbor that hurts them and the parent who doesn’t love them. It is too much.

The woes of the world weigh on his mind. Everyone is desperate to be saved and growing more desperate and hopeless the longer the war drags on. Charles is forced to listen to their cries on a loop, feeling himself be dragged down into a pit of all their despair, fear, and grief. There is no relief. Even in sleep, the voices haunt him, seeping into every part of his being. When it isn’t the terror from outside, he jumps awake from the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears or, just as painful, some loving word or declaration from a time long since passed. So, he has to drink, or he will go insane.

He remembers days spent wishing his mother would break out of her drunken haze and notice him, love him, reassure him, parent him. He’s doing the same to David, and hates himself for it, so he takes more of the serum, and wonder of all wonders, the voices go away and the nightmares do too. He can’t hear the stream of David’s disappointment or Hank’s pity or the PTA committee’s judgment. The sorrow and grief of the world is no longer compounding with his own. It’s blissful silence, with nothing but his own drunk-addled thoughts bouncing around his head.

For the first time in years, he smiles.

**~*~*~**

On David’s tenth birthday, he returns his powers to him, partly out of guilt and partly because he was too high and exhausted to get him anything else. David’s telepathy comes back with a vengeance. It lashes out like a greedy thing, captures Charles’ mind and won’t let go, delves so deep that he is brought to his knees. He’s pretty sure he passes out from the ferocity of it.

When he wakes up, David is at his side, tear tracks on his face and a look that tells Charles that he knows everything. Every deep, dark secret or desire he’s ever had, David knows it all. He wonders if Erik had felt this deeply uncomfortable about having Charles use his telepathy to know so much about him before they said a word to each other. All the things you wished to hide were laid bare for judgment and there was nothing you could do.

David moves closer and stares at Charles. He stares back.

“I understand now,” David whispers as if to speak louder would shatter some invisible barrier between them that he’s not certain Charles wants broken.

He never wanted there to be a wall between him and his son, but there are ghosts lingering and words unsaid, and he has Erik’s eyes. Charles must look away. David makes a small noise that reminds Charles that he can hear him now, see him all too clearly. It’s terrifying. David inches closer to him before speaking again.

“You loved him,” he states plainly.

Charles nods wordlessly.

“Do you still love him?”

Charles hesitates and nods again.

“But you hate him too.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time.

“He did this. He’s why everything is the way it is.”

Charles shakes his head. Even though he hates Erik, probably with as much fervor as he loves him, he doesn’t think he can stand the idea of David hating him.

“The way things are is my fault. He isn’t here, I am. I’m…” Charles trails off in a bitter laugh.

“I wish I was stronger for you, my dear boy. You deserve better than me. So much more than me.”

David doesn’t respond. He grabs his father’s hand and squeezes it.

Charles tries not to cry in front of his son. It’s embarrassing enough that David’s seen into his mind. What shameful things does he now know that’ll make his weak, druggie, alcoholic father even more of a pariah? David doesn’t say anything. He falls asleep across Charles’ lap holding his hand. Once he’s sure he’s sleeping, only then does Charles allow the tears to fall.

**~*~*~**

He knows that David needs help to control his telepathy (and his telekinesis and other psionic abilities) and he can’t be it. It would take a while before he’d be clean and in control of his abilities. In that time, David could scramble, dismantle, or fry the brains of anyone in a 20-mile radius. He isn’t keen on locking his son in the bunker again until he can get his shit together either.

That’s how he meets Elizabeth Braddock. Her abilities are close enough to David’s for her to be the perfect teacher for him. She is obviously surprised to see how low the young Harvard graduate has fallen. He is far removed from the promising professor and geneticist he once was. She doesn’t comment too much on his poor appearance other than saying he is hobo chic. He doesn’t feel much the latter, but the former is accurate. He let himself go. He’s lost a concerning amount of weight. His grown-out hair would be stylish if he ever washed and combed it properly and his beard is a product of the same neglect, not a conscious fashion choice. He usually grabs the first thing his hands touch in the morning, not caring what he wears. He doesn’t leave the house for anything other than dropping David off at school and picking him up anyway, so what does it matter?

David is elated at having someone new in the house. He and Betsy become thick as thieves quickly. Charles wonders again if he made a mistake not giving David to some lovely, accepting heterosexual couple who could’ve raised him normally. Heaven knows David has lacked female role models. Male ones as well, to be honest. Hank does his best though.

It puts a smile on Charles’ face to see how excited David is by his new teacher and everything she shows him, how accomplished he looks whenever he gains some measure of control and how genuinely he desires to share it all with Charles. So, Charles drags himself from bed and watches David from the patio. He is present, smiles at all the right times, and doesn’t bring a liquor bottle with him. He feels the glow of David’s approval and hopes the charade is enough to give his son even a glimmer of the affection and attention he deserves.

**~*~*~**

It all feels like a bad acid trip, Logan showing up and claiming to be from the future and his whole spiel about stopping Raven and breaking Erik out of jail. To accompany him, Charles will have to leave David with Betsy, a woman he respects but doesn’t know well after only five months, so he can break his ex-lover and the father of his child out of an underground prison in the Pentagon with the help of his best friend, an indestructible time traveler, and some teenager with undisclosed powers. A prison that’s kept him contained for ten years. He feels like an idiot, but he’s resolved to go anyway. Even though every fiber in his being has been hellbent on the fact that he hates Erik and everything he stands for, his traitorous heart thuds hopefully in his chest. It’s been ten years since he’s seen anything of him other than a picture. He can’t help the anticipation he feels, along with the anger and nervousness.

Still, that hardly explains why he is sitting in his car with a virtual stranger accompanying him to pick up his son from school. Logan didn’t give Charles much choice in the matter, he just hopped into the passenger seat and lit up a cigar. Charles hadn’t bothered fighting him. He’s already using most of his strength to focus on driving to David’s school in one piece. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, trying to ignore the way Logan’s eyes are boring into him.

“Can I help you or isn’t there something more interesting to gawk at?”

“No, not from the looks of it.”

Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’d thank you not to stare.”

“Just never seen you this young... or with hair.”

“I beg your pardon?” Charles asks, startled.

Logan shrugs slightly, puffing out a cloud of cigar smoke.

“When you sent me back here, you told me you didn’t have your powers. You didn’t mention why, but things make sense now. A lot of things actually, like you and David.”

Charles knows he’s being baited, but he can hardly resist the urge when it has to do with his son. He makes it all the way to the next traffic light.

“What about David and me?” He asks around a sigh.

Logan grunts, takes another puff of his cigar, then puts it out on his hand. Charles winces at the action and then watches in fascination as the wound almost simultaneously seals itself shut. He doesn’t let it distract him.

“David. What about him and me?”

“Oh, that. Just the fact that he hated you.”

Charles jerks at that blunt statement.

“Excuse me?”

Logan shrugs nonchalantly again.

“I didn’t even know you had a son until the world was ending and you insisted that we had to find him. That’s how we ran into Magneto again. He was looking for him too. ‘Course, David wanted nothing to do with either of you. I’m pretty sure Lehnsherr was the only person on the planet David hated more than he hated you. Guessing you weren’t father of the year. Magneto spent the first twenty years of David’s life in prison, then he got out and started trying to poach students from the school for his Brotherhood. He even tried to recruit David to get back at you. Talk-your-enemy’s-kid-into-joining-your-side-and-then-rub-it-in-his-face type thing. That’s how he found out about David being his son, from David telling him before the kid tried to kill him. That whole situation was more fucked up than I wanted to be involved in. I didn’t have much choice by the end. You can’t imagine the hell me and Ororo went through being stuck on a ship with you, Magneto and your pissed-off kid during a virtual apocalypse. Not that that lasted long.”

Charles swallows a little, taking in Logan’s words as the light turns green, but not entirely sure how to process them.

“What do you mean?”

Logan glances over at him but doesn’t immediately speak. He doesn’t answer Charles’ question until they pull up in front of the school.

“He died.”

“Sorry?”

“David died,” Logan says, just as bluntly as before though there might be a hint of remorse in his eyes.

“The Sentinels attacked us. David saved Ro’s life, but he died in your arms.”

Charles searches Logan’s face for a lie but finds none. He turns to stare out the window.

“If it’s any consolation, it kicked you and Lehnsherr in the ass. You two made up, formed the united front we needed to come up with this plan.”

Charles scoffs at that. He can’t imagine, doesn’t want to imagine, a time when David has stopped giving him chances, quit trying to love him or forgive him and instead, hates him so much that even at the end of the world he wants nothing to do with him, straight up until he dies right before his eyes. He thinks of what he would feel, what he did feel, or would’ve felt, clutching the lifeless weight of his son in his arms and he shakes his head hard. He doesn’t want to think of it.

“Me and Erik working together, forgiving each other, it would’ve only taken, what? 60 years and our dead son to get there? Am I meant to think my future counterpart thought that was worth it?”

Logan is quiet for a long moment.

“No, he never felt that way, but, in some ways, it gave him hope.”

“Hope,” Charles repeats derisively.

“Hope to strive for a way to change things. It doesn’t have to be that way now. We’re changing the future. We’re breaking Magneto out of jail a hell of a lot earlier than he would’ve gotten out otherwise. We’re stopping Trask from getting his hands on Mystique. There will be no Sentinels to kill David in the first place. He’s still young. It’s not too late to get your shit together or to tell Lehnsherr the truth. Save yourself some pain, Chuck. Say what you need to say before it’s too late.”

“What are you? A bloody life guru now?”

“Nah, just lived long enough to know if you get a second chance at something, you got to be a special brand of stupid to waste it.”

Charles looks back at Logan with a small glare. The other man holds his gaze unflinchingly.

“If you were truly the friend you say you are, you wouldn’t be pushing me at Erik.”

Logan snorts in response.

“I don’t pretend to understand you two’s fucked up relationship. Frankly, I don’t know what you see in him. He’s an insane asshole. Given half a chance, I’d probably kill him.”

Charles isn’t sure what his face does at that, but Logan chuckles slightly.

“Easy, Chuck. I’m not going to kill your boyfriend. We need him, remember?”

“Don’t call him that,” Charles retorts, glancing behind Logan as David approaches the vehicle.

“In fact, don’t call him anything at all. David’s here. No more talk of Erik.”

David is suitably awed by Logan’s talk about the future after he immediately reads the man’s mind and garners the truth of his presence. (Charles really needs to start reinforcing ethical boundaries for David’s telepathy, but it’s hard to have a moral high ground when your son has seen you so high and drunk you could barely move).

David is a lot more hesitant about the idea of breaking Erik out of jail. Charles isn’t sure what Logan says to him about it, but David doesn’t say a word to Charles one way or the other.

Later that day, he sees Charles off with an uneasy smile. He does his best to ignore the displeasure in David’s eyes and thinks briefly about a day when that disappointment is twisted into hatred.

It won’t happen, he decides. He’ll fix it. And as for Erik, well, one problem at a time.

**~*~*~**

He considers telling Erik about David when they’re playing chess on the plane.

The blood rushing in his ears, the ball of excitement and anger and the thrum of _hate hate hate_ has dulled with exposure, and Charles can think relatively straight now. Logan had said it would be a good idea, but Logan is not a parent, and he doesn’t know Erik the way Charles does.

He ultimately keeps his mouth shut. The silence between them is finally companionable if slightly charged after their little spats. Charles doesn’t want to burst this strange bubble they’ve managed to coax themselves into, not with how much he aches with having missed just this simple interaction with Erik.

Plus, a part of him, the part that still throbs painfully from Erik hurting him, wants Erik to hurt too, even if it’s only in Charles’ head that he does, and so he doesn’t say anything.

**~*~*~**

Erik’s fingers are dancing along his spine as they stand against a wall in the lobby of a Parisian hotel watching Hank and Logan secure rooms for the night. His fingers get close to the scars from the bullet, but he doesn’t quite make contact.

“Stop it, Erik,” Charles mumbles as the lobby fills with the soft chords of “Superstar” by the Carpenters.

“Hmm,” Erik hums with innocent absentmindedness.

Charles doesn’t believe it for a moment.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Can’t you guess?”

Charles rolls his eyes in response.

“I said stop.”

“You did,” Erik replies, but he doesn’t stop, and Charles doesn’t move away.

“What’s the point? It won’t change anything between us, won’t fix anything at all,” he states, cutting past whatever veiled banter or coy flirtation Erik thinks they are going to have. It isn’t 1962, and Charles isn’t going to act like it is.

“Maybe not. Most probably not,” Erik concedes, resting his chin against Charles’ shoulder.

He represses a shudder at the contact as Erik’s hot breath ghosts against his skin. He doesn’t remember the other man being this tactile. Charles’ nerve endings are shot in more ways than one and overly sensitive from neglect, that’s the only reason he can think of for his reaction.

“So…”

“So, I’ve spent the last ten years in solitary confinement. Ten lonely years.”

So that’s what this is. Erik just wants to use him again.

“Go procure a prostitute if you need to scratch an itch. Won’t be difficult to find one on a night like this, I’d wager.”

“That would be a waste with you here.”

Charles grits his teeth in annoyance. Erik nestles closer so his mouth is up against his ear. He can only imagine what they look like, Erik pressing his body up against Charles’ side looking as if he is whispering sweet nothings to him. They look too intimate to be just friends in a public place like this, that’s for sure. Music is blaring outside from various nightclubs and people are stumbling around celebrating Victory in Vietnam Day. There are so many strange people out tonight, he hopes that they will be dismissed as a part of the menagerie of VV Day. Just another peculiar attraction that one can only find in Paris.

Charles’ train of thought is abruptly cut off when Erik presses a soft kiss to his neck, sending his nerves into a frenzy at the foreign contact and a shiver down his damaged spine.

“Erik…” he trails off warningly, allowing the smooth tone of Karen Carpenter to fill the air with her melancholic longing for her lover.

Charles wishes any other song were playing. He takes a moment to lament the chain of events that’s led him here, in a hotel lobby in Paris standing next to Erik listening to sad love songs while the other man tries to… seduce him? He doesn’t even know.

“I missed you,” Erik admits, his voice holding such emotion that Charles must rear back to stare at him.

“That’s not funny.” 

He means it to sound menacing, but his voice is trembling.

“Am I a man that makes many jokes?”

Charles stares at Erik, gauging his expression. His face is open and expressive in a way that brings back their early days: when they trusted each other, when they could love each other without an undercurrent of anger, mistrust, and hatred. It makes Charles shift uncertainly to think Erik can still have that inside him after all this time. Within that, it’s unfathomable to him that Erik can look at him, broken and at his most unattractive, and want him, miss him, maybe even love him still.

Charles scoffs to himself at that silly thought. Erik doesn’t love him. He’s just pent up. Ten years of celibacy will do that to anyone.

“That’s not fair,” he protests.

Those words too are weak and without conviction. If he was thinking properly, he would accuse Erik of trying to manipulate him for some nefarious ends, trying to use him. It’s too hard to think right now, much less voice those thoughts. Charles’ heart is thumping hard in his chest, pushing him to reach for Erik in the hopes that he will somehow make him feel like himself in a way he hasn’t in the decade since they’ve been apart.

“That’s not fair,” he repeats, shaking his head to knock the heady fog that has descended over him loose.

He places a hand on Erik’s chest, intending to put some distance between them. He opens his mouth, trying to let his better judgment take over, but he snaps it shut after a few seconds. He can’t make himself push the other man away and say no. Erik reaches up, takes the hand Charles has put on his chest and moves it to rest over his heart. Charles can feel it beating fast under his fingertips.

“Charles?” Hank calls from the desk, cutting through the tension.

“Am I still getting the four rooms,” he asks.

There is a look of disdainful judgment on his old friend’s face. Charles cannot blame him. Hank’s reservations about their sexual orientation notwithstanding, he’s been the one trying to pick up the pieces after Cuba. He is also one of two people in the world who is most acutely aware of Charles’ weaknesses, he can hardly think his friend is surprised about what’s happening.

Charles looks back at Erik and gets slightly lost in his eyes, still open and expressive, raw and needy and… Erik has been in a jail cell for ten years for a crime he didn’t commit because Charles was so afraid of being hurt by him again that he wanted him gone. Not dead, never that, just away. Erik, who has never been the forgiving type, doesn’t appear to blame him for it. He still wants him even if he doesn’t love him, maybe never did, and Charles is just… tired. Exhaustion has set in his bones so deep that he doesn’t have the wherewithal to fight anymore. He wants some peace, even if it’s only for tonight. He can regret it later.

“You’d better make that three rooms, Hank.”

**~*~*~**

He feels like the most foolish man in the world when he sees Erik pointing a gun at Raven.

Almost ten years on a bender, and you’d think he’d have wised up to the man Erik truly is. Yet he can still be surprised, betrayed, and heartbroken by him. That is the most foolish thing of all.

Erik says he’s securing their future, and it’s a slap in the face. He said that to Charles in bed the previous night. Charles had been curled up on his chest, sated after he and Erik went at each other as long as their bodies would allow.

It was not perfect. It wasn’t some romantic reunion straight out of a harlequin novel. They did not fit with one another again like they had never parted. Their bodies were like new territory despite their shared history. Erik had battle scars, physical and mental, that Charles had not been introduced to yet and so he didn’t know how to soothe away the defensive attitude Erik had about them. Even so, Erik didn’t look much different than before. Not as lean perhaps but that was traded for brawn. He was still handsome and domineering.

Charles’ body was very different. He hadn’t cared much about the neglect he put himself through in the past, but he couldn’t help but be self-conscious about stripping himself bare in front of Erik who, despite being imprisoned, had managed to stay enviously fit. Charles had surgery scars and stretch marks and needle tracks that he couldn’t cover up and didn’t have any interest in even attempting to explain. He couldn’t quite stop himself from being insecure, cautious and wary when Erik’s fingers lingered on the c-section scars and the stretch marks from his pregnancy. For a moment, he thought Erik would figure him out. He had a pregnant wife before, he figured Erik would recognize the source of the changes in Charles’ body, would pinpoint the origins of curves where there had previously been sharp plains, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Beyond the physical changes they had gone through, it had been too long since either of them had sex. The first two encounters didn’t last as long as they would like. They hadn’t even really managed to do much other than jerk each other off but by the third time, they found something of a rhythm again.

By the end of it all, he felt broken open physically, emotionally, mentally. He’s pretty sure he cried and said stupid things about how much he missed him. Erik had soothed away tears, said everything would go the way it was meant to, said he would secure their future no matter what. Charles had had an inkling to tell him about David then, but he wasn’t in a fit state to bring their son into the conversation. Besides, he had reasoned, it could be a distraction from what they had to do. Little did he know.

He wonders if Erik planned this betrayal the whole time, if while he was fucking Charles, he was plotting out how to stab him in the back at the same time. Maybe he just needed Charles in bed so he could redirect his focus from figuring out what he should’ve known already, the lesson the past ten years was meant to impart on him: inevitably, Erik was going to disappoint him.

**~*~*~**

David doesn’t say anything to him when he gets back from Paris. Maybe he sees something in Charles’ face or, heavens forbid, his head that makes him give him a wide berth. They talk before he leaves for DC though.

“You’re going to see him,” he says without asking.

“Perhaps. I’m more focused on Raven.”

He has only ever told David about Raven sparingly, enough for the boy to know she’s his aunt, Charles had loved her dearly, and they had hurt each other. When he was younger, the stories made David yearn for a sibling. Charles could think of nothing worse than having had another child around for him to fuck up.

“Just… if you do see him, don’t let him get in your head again.”

Charles stares after David as he walks off, and not for the first time, he wonders just how much his son saw in his head and what he thinks of him. His telepathy is back, he could check now, but he’s too afraid to know the answer.

**~*~*~**

Erik drops a baseball stadium on him and, honestly, Charles doesn’t know why he would be surprised about it. It’s just the sort of reckless thing Erik would do, levitate a stadium across the city so he can trap the President of the United States and try to kill him and the whole cabinet on live television without thinking of the collateral damage he might leave in his wake. Raven stops him and becomes a national hero while Charles makes it home with cuts and bruises, and a slightly lighter chest. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s Logan’s assurances that the future is brighter. Perhaps, despite how much of a disaster it turned out to be, seeing Erik and Raven again provided some semblance of closure after all.

When he gets home, David throws himself into his lap and hugs him hard. He’s shaking and Charles gets a flash of his memory of sitting on the couch with Betsy watching the TV, hearing Erik’s speech, and seeing Charles beneath the wreckage of the stadium, his terror that Charles was dead. He hugs David tighter and does his best to ignore the flare of _hate hate hate_ in his head when the boy thinks of Erik’s face. They probably won’t ever see him again, at least not for a long time, but even though he betrayed him and dropped a baseball stadium on him, the idea of David hating him still makes his heart clench. David abruptly pulls back from the hug to stare at Charles.

“What is so great about him? He hurt you, he left you. Why do you still care,” he demands to know, his voice filled with incredulity and anger.

Charles softens and brushes his fingers through David’s brunette hair.

“I don’t know, my dear boy. I wish I did,” he answers truthfully. 

David is not placated by the answer but doesn’t question its veracity.

“You didn’t tell him about me, did you?”

“…no, I didn’t.”

“Good.”

Charles’ heart is a mess as David stalks away.

Everything would be easier if he could just figure out what he feels for Erik, but that’s like trying to thread an elephant through a needle. On the best of days, he feels twenty contradictory emotions about that man, so he can hardly provide his son with clarity on the subject. Not when he is so confused himself.

**~*~*~**

When he starts to vomit, he chalks it up to withdrawal. He put his body through the wringer, it needs to acclimate.

Weeks later, he’d reflect on how much of an idiot he was to fall into bed with Erik Lehnsherr again.


	2. 1973 - 1974

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles puts his life back together as he learns that, once again, Erik hasn’t left him completely alone.

Withdrawal is hell to go through, but Charles expects nothing less.

It isn’t just the physical symptoms, not to say those aren’t hell in their own right. His muscles ache in a place so deep he didn’t know it existed, and that was to say nothing of his back. His body spasms and shakes, his nerve endings feeling like they are on fire. He stays in bed sweating from fever and yet freezing cold, exhausted and yet unable to sleep, hungry, but throwing up most things he eats. He’s agitated and irritable one second, then depressed and bawling his eyes out the next.

Then his telepathy comes crashing through. That adds another layer of misery for everyone. The voices are so loud, and Charles can’t block them out. With the withdrawal compounding on it, he gets multiple hallucinations and goes through a few episodes where he projects frightening scenarios to his housemates. He is stuck in the minds of war vets and projects Hank to the frontlines of Vietnam. There is a woman trapped in endless loops of miscarriages and infant deaths, and he projects her sorrow into Betsy. He feels most guilty about David. There is a child who sees a scary film. Charles injects her terror into David, creating a slovenly, inhumane ghoul with yellow eyes who eats telepaths. It has the boy running around the mansion scared and alone for days with Betsy and Hank no help, busy living their own walking nightmares.

Betsy locks him in a room in the bunker after that so she can monitor his psionic activity. She regulates him where she can and shields the house from his projections where she can’t. The first week is the worst, but for a month he weathers it through the occasional seizure, tremors, nausea, disorientation, nightmares, and anxiety. There are a few times when the urge to drink or take the serum is only combatted by Betsy putting him to sleep and other times when he seriously considers if he would be able to just kill himself and end his misery, but those thoughts don’t ever get very far.

David visits him almost every day. Charles can tell when he is there, can feel the press of his mind against his. It is soothing and comforting, but he knows that it’s a two-way street, and David must feel his pain. He tells him to go most times, but David always refuses. He usually stays an hour, telling Charles about his day to distract him, or just sitting with him so he knows he isn’t alone.

At the end of it, Charles comes out the other side paralyzed, but with a rudimentary control on his telepathy. He still has slight tremors and doesn’t feel 100%, but he’s functional and ready for the real work on himself to begin, as terrifying a prospect as that is.

**~*~*~**

Charles never once gave the idea of therapy more than a passing glance because, even though as a man of science and of the mind he should see the merits of it, he’s also a man with an ego that can be bruised at admitting he can’t just up and put himself back together. Betsy becomes a valuable resource in this and a friend as she talks him into looking into on-site rehab.

“I know a pretty good place. It’s run by a telepath I’m friendly with. Madelyne can be a bit much. She’s not shy about rooting around in your head and making you face an issue rather than talking around it, but that’s the whole point of rehabilitation, isn’t it? Why check-in if you’re not going to give it your all?”

“You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”

Betsy smirks humorlessly.

“I’m a recovering addict, you know. It’s why I never said anything. Nothing as conventional as drugs or alcohol, but I was addicted to killing.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at that, partly in surprise and partly in silent curiosity.

“I grew up in Saigon. I had to kill to survive.”

“I didn’t know you were from Vietnam.”

“Why would you? I never told you and you couldn’t read my mind. Besides, Hank’s the one that interviewed me. Pretty sure you were too drunk to handle that part.”

Charles looks down in embarrassment even though Betsy’s voice holds no judgment. She shrugs a little.

“Hey, it’s just a fact. I was right about you in the end. Here you are, detoxed and looking to make sure your sobriety lasts. Anyway, I spent a good amount of time with my father’s folks in England, but a majority of my teenhood was with my mother in Vietnam. I told myself that if I took lives in the course of doing what was right, then I shouldn’t feel guilty for a part of me liking it. At least it meant other people wouldn’t have to. Like I was... like I was saving innocent souls. But that’s a lie. That’s lazy, guilt-dodging bullshit. I was an addict. I did it because it made me feel good, made me feel better about myself, but it hurt everyone around me. I had to realize that I needed help. I needed to put pride aside and change.”

She pauses to give him a knowing look there before continuing.

“The truth is this: I came here to this school to teach David because I’m trying to make amends for all the lives I’ve taken by maybe helping to create some good. I hoped if I stuck around long enough, the school would reopen, and I could give some back. Now, you can start giving back too, putting good in the world. You just have to break yourself down a bit more and then pull yourself together again. Won’t be easy, but it’s worth it.” 

Charles simply nods in response. He’ll try just about anything at this point. Rehab and therapy is hardly the most outlandish choice.

Charles is antsy being away from home in this strange place with strange people who want him to talk about his experiences, feelings, flaws, and thought processes so intimately when they hardly know him. On the one hand, it feels strange to give so much of himself to these people. On the other hand, the fact that they are strangers makes it easier to lay bare every distasteful or dark part of himself and not be afraid of being abandoned. 

Within reason. 

He mentions his son, mentions Erik to his counselor, but he is careful not to talk about his pregnancy and in how he portrays his sexual orientation. Homosexuality was de-pathologized earlier this year, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still doctors who would try to lock him away “for his own good”, whether those doctors were human or mutant. The X-gene certainly didn’t preclude one from being prejudiced or biased, no matter what Erik wanted to believe.

The director of the rehab becomes his personal therapist. Madelyne doesn’t think he’s as hopeless as he sometimes believes himself to be. She tells him that telepaths like them have a tendency to rely on their ability too much to hear instead of listening or communicating actively. She says their telepathy is a strength but cannot be allowed to become a crutch so that they can’t operate without it, but they shouldn’t be afraid to embrace themselves either. She encourages him to make amends with those he’s wronged and find joy in things outside himself before sending him back home a couple months later.

David, who Charles hasn’t seen due to the rehab’s strict no visitors policy, looks a bit taller than when he last saw him nine weeks prior, but that could be because of the wheelchair. All the same, his son sports a broader smile than Charles has seen on his face since he was much smaller. He doesn’t say anything, but Charles can hear the excited thoughts running past his mind of _missed you missed you missed you_ tinged with happiness. Charles hugs him tightly and thanks his lucky stars that David is still putting up with him after everything he’s done. 

His son is the first person he must make amends with, and he intends to do all he can to ensure he does.

**~*~*~**

David attaches himself to Charles like he hasn’t since he was five years old. Charles had thought David would be reticent to try to fix what was broken between them, what Charles broke, especially given what Logan had said, but he is excited to have his father back. With both of them retaining their telepathy now, they have an awareness of one another that goes far beyond the physical. David is now a constant presence thrumming in the back of his head and vice versa. It’s comfortable to have him there. Sometimes they hold whole conversations across town even though Charles tries not to distract him from his classes. Sometimes David asks for help with schoolwork in the middle of the day if he can’t quite grasp a teacher’s explanations. He would start home-schooling David if he thought it would earn him any points to separate him from his friends.

That is not to say there aren’t arguments and times when David shuts him out, giving Charles a taste of his own medicine. There are moments when his son gravitates to Hank or Betsy and others when he is angry and short with him for seemingly no reason, but he weathers it because it’s his fault. On Charles’ end, there are times he pushes David out of his head because there must be boundaries between them. There are some things David shouldn’t see, and it rankles his son, who believes that he’s seen Charles at his worst and knows almost all he’s been through, so they should have no secrets. Charles tries to employ the strategies the rehab recommended and explain why that thinking is wrong and mostly fails, but Betsy proves a boon when they can’t communicate properly.

“Two such powerful telepaths, you’d think you would’ve learned to use your words by now,” she would say.

So, yes, things are not perfect, but they are sliding into something like normalcy. Charles is reaching a place of equilibrium and peace within himself. He can see his future being a brighter one. He will reopen the school, continue to rebuild his relationship with David, his friendship with Betsy will continue to grow, and he will continue to make amends with Hank for all the shit he put him through. Maybe one day he’ll get to see Raven again, talk to her properly. Perhaps he’ll even get to finally level with Erik once and for all. Maybe introduce him to David. He’s been thinking of it more and more since rehab. It provided a lot of free time for introspection. Charles can admit to himself that he’d like to see Erik again, to see Raven too, if for no other reason than to get to talk about everything, but he pushes it away because it’s not a pressing issue at the moment. He has to focus on his sobriety and David.

That’s when a meteor crashes through his newfound peace.

**~*~*~**

The first time he feels ill is around David’s 11th birthday party. He can hardly believe it’s been a year since he gave David his powers back. Between meeting Betsy, everything with Logan, Erik and Raven, and getting clean, it feels like a lot longer than a year has passed. It’s the first birthday party he’s thrown for David since he closed the school and is sober enough to manage such a large-scale endeavor. It feels particularly special for these reasons.

He and Betsy have been working hard to throw the big bash together without alerting him. He’s been shielding his thoughts about it for weeks. He’s only told the parents of David’s friends so he won’t catch the other children’s thoughts. They were all surprised to see him at the school for more than two minutes looking alive and human, not like a drugged-out corpse. The wheelchair also throws them for a loop. Some of their minds hum with approval at his recovery, others with judgment for his past behavior, and another few with pity at his wheelchair. He lets them draw their own conclusions and keeps his interactions short and cordial.

He puts his money to good use, rents out a traveling fair, and buys a cake entirely larger than needed, considering the guest list is 50 at most. His skin glows healthier than it has in years, he shaves his face clean and trims his hair fashionably but leaves it long. He lets Betsy convince him to go on a shopping spree for the occasion though it’s mostly him giving a running commentary on her many outfit choices. They’ve become real friends now. He’s laid himself on the line and told her almost everything that he’s been hiding about himself, Erik, and David. She took it all with fantastic stride. Her survival has depended on her ability to adapt to new realities. In the grand scheme of things, his revelations haven’t changed much beyond giving her a new understanding of why he was the way he was. The downside has been that she forces him into things like shopping sprees. He has no clue why she insists on believing his bisexuality translates to some heightened fashion sense when she’s seen him wear the same shirt for two weeks straight.

Even though he is now clean and more presentable than he has been in ages, the effort of putting the party together has taken a toll on him. He’s been feeling fatigued and nauseous. He wonders if he’s been overdoing it. He’s only been clean for four months now. The effects on his body are still not completely gone. He has the odd tremor still, other times his control slips and the voices become too loud, he’s been feeling bloated lately, putting on weight, but that’s to be expected, being back in the chair and eating healthily now.

It is all worth it to see the utter shock on David’s face when they pull up to the fairgrounds and all his classmates are there to greet him and sing “Happy Birthday”. The look he gives Charles nearly brings a tear to the older man’s eye, but he simply hugs his son and prepares for a day of fun and leisure.

Hank pushes him around after David, who doesn’t let Charles leave his side for long, trying to convince his father to join him on the rides. Charles declines to most of them, encouraging David to join his friends instead. He does accompany him on the roller coaster and must wheel to a trashcan to vomit almost immediately afterward. David hovers worriedly by his side, but Charles laughs it off.

“Never did like roller coasters. Apparently, the disdain is mutual. I’m fine, darling. Go meet up with your friends and leave this old man to his own devices, why don’t you?” 

David hesitates, giving him a once over, but yields when Sydney calls out to him.

Charles is slightly embarrassed about the ordeal but doesn’t think much of it. He’s not overly concerned when he wakes up nauseous the next day, or when his back starts to ache. If his body is punishing him for years of abuse, he only has himself to blame.

It isn’t until a week later when he becomes aware of a different presence in the back of his mind that he realizes the truth.

He rolls down to Hank’s lab with trepidation and mild disbelief.

“Charles, everything alright?”

“I… I think I might be pregnant.”

**~*~*~**

He has no clue how to tell David. David still refuses to talk about Erik. He’s so averse to his other father’s existence that he slams down on his mental shields if Erik’s face so much as crosses Charles’ mind, as if to reprimand him. Things are going good between them. He doesn’t want to ruin it. Hank’s pungent disappointment is more than enough for him, he doesn’t need David’s as well. Betsy is of little help. She tells him to grow some balls and get it over with then begins prattling on about how the pregnancy will affect the school relaunch schedule and what will happen when the twins come.

Twins.

Erik never does anything by half, let it be known.

Charles can feel the two distinct presences despite their formless nature. They have, for lack of better phrasing, different flavors that distinguish them from each other, so he knows that there will be two new babies in the manor in five months.

With sobriety has come clarity, and he regrets a lot of things now. He regrets telling Raven to leave. He should’ve explained his aversion to her that night in the kitchen had nothing to do with her being blue so much as it did her nakedness. Though he always tried to ignore it, he was privy to her less than platonic feelings towards him. He knows she would never admit it now, not after everything that’s happened. It was mostly a result of thinking they were the only two mutants in the world, but he should’ve handled it with more maturity than he had. If he wasn’t so afraid of losing her, he wouldn’t have let her think he was rejecting her for who she was and ended up losing her anyway.

He has also played back everything that happened on the beach over and over again. He regrets not explaining to Erik why he shouldn’t kill those men in a better way. Telling a Jewish man, a survivor of the death camps no less, that the soldiers getting ready to kill them were just following orders wasn’t his finest moment, nor was getting into a physical confrontation. That bloody helmet screwed with him in ways he couldn’t foresee. He didn’t know how much he relied on his telepathy until that moment.

Overall, he regrets not calling them back. He regrets not telling Erik about David. He should’ve told him in Paris or DC or before he was arrested. Now here he is, pregnant again. He tries to find Erik with Cerebro more than once. Several times he feels the brush of his mind before he’s shut out. The last time it happened, Charles had just managed to caress Erik’s brain, felt impressions of regret, reluctance, guilt, anger, and resolve before he was cut off. The way it felt makes it clear that somehow Erik got the helmet back or some other version of it. Figures. When Charles wants nothing to do with him, time travelers will force them together. When he does, Erik disappears on him. There haven’t been any reports of a reformation of the Brotherhood or Erik causing havoc, so Charles is unsure why he’s gone full radio silence on him this time unless he’s planning something that he doesn’t want Charles to know about.

“Hey, Papa,” David says, coming into Charles’ study and startling him from his thoughts.

“Yes, love?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Of course, darling. Bring it here.”

Charles sits with him for long minutes, not letting his mind drift to anything besides the math work. It provides a welcome distraction from his troubles. However, David spends the time getting increasingly distracted.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asks after David flinches again.

“You don’t hear that? There’s something there, but I can’t grasp it. What is that?” 

David projects the impression he is getting. Charles knows immediately it’s the babies. David’s brows furrow.

“Babies? What babies?” 

Charles stares at him a moment and then sighs.

“The babies I’m going to be having soon,” he replies, deciding to just get it over with.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?” 

Charles nods silently. David’s mind is racing. He goes through a sea of emotions: confusion, alarm, happiness, confusion again, excitement, puzzlement, uncertainty, trepidation.

“It isn’t _him_ , is it?” David asks.

“David…” 

The boy shoots to his feet and stares at Charles before he starts pacing back and forth.

“That was a dumb thing to do, being with him. Why did you do that?” 

Charles blinks in surprise at the admonishment.

“David—”

“Everyone always says adults are supposed to be so much smarter than kids, but if that were true, you would’ve never been so stupid and selfish!” The boy condescends.

“David Brian Xavier-Lehnsherr, that’s enough!” Charles says firmly.

“You—”

“ _No_. You listen to me. I am your father. I haven’t always been at my best, but I am still your father. You will speak to me with more respect than that, do you understand me?” 

David huffs a little, but nods.

“Yes. I apologize for my rudeness.” 

Charles sighs and rolls over to David, patting his lap. The boy reluctantly sits.

“I’ve made many mistakes in my life, not a few of them regarding your father, but Erik _is_ your father. Nothing will change that.”

“He shot you. He left you. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed _me_ before I was even born.”

“He didn’t set out to hurt me and he didn’t know about you. Perhaps if he did, things would’ve gone very differently. We both made mistakes. Regardless of that, if you ever get a chance to build it, your relationship should be independent of my relationship with Erik. And as far as blame goes, I’m guiltier for all that’s happened in this house the last ten years between you and I than he could ever be.”

“Why are you defending him? He almost killed you in DC too. He tried to kill the President.”

“I never said he was perfect. I’m just saying it’s not as simple as Erik or myself being evil or good, or even right or wrong. It’s complicated in ways I can’t even begin to express to you. Not for anything so trivial as you being a child and me lacking belief in your maturity to understand, but because it’s hard for me to understand it sometimes. People are such complex beings. Even with telepathy, I don’t understand human nature much better than anyone else, so I can’t expect you to.” 

David huffs again, unmoved by his father’s words. Charles runs his fingers through the boy’s hair, trying to soothe away some of the tension.

“Bear in mind most of your impressions of him is from what you saw in my head when I was my most wounded and vulnerable. I wasn’t the most reliable narrator at that time. I’m sure everything I thought of him was tinged with my anger and pain. But all that hurt, that was just the end. There were beautiful moments between us, moments that led us to make you and these babies. I don’t regret that. I do want Erik to come back.”

“ _Papa_ —”

“I want these babies to have both their parents, and you deserve both of us too.”

“I don’t need him or want him. Don’t you see? He’s going to ruin everything again. We just fixed it and he’ll break it,” his son exclaims, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Oh, David…” Charles pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I want to fix everything that’s broken between us, Erik included if the time should come. It won’t be easy, but it won’t be like it was before. It can’t be. I will never put you through that again, I promise you that.”

David remains unconvinced. Charles lets out a shaky breath. He remembers how thrown off he was when David first got his telepathy back and saw deep into Charles, able to understand who he was better than anyone ever had. It has made him fearful of what David thinks of him, but that one experience has colored his entire perception of Erik. Nothing Charles had felt then was outright false, but it was undoubtedly skewed and didn’t capture any of the good.

“If I show you him as I truly saw him, without the influence of the drugs and the alcohol, do you think you can understand then? I can’t promise there won’t still be hurt in the memories, but you’ll see what it was truly like.”

David pulls back and looks at him uncertainly.

“You won’t push me out?”

Charles smiles sadly. He tries not to let David catch any of his thoughts regarding wanting to shut him out, but he can’t shield everything. When he was younger, he hated being rejected by anyone’s mind. It felt like they were rejecting _him_ , but he can also understand Raven a little better than he could before. Some things are not for others to know. Still, he holds his hand up to David’s temple, asking for permission. When he nods, he lets David see it all. The anger and hate are still there, but everything is tinged with a wistful, nostalgic overtone. Every memory of a smile, a kiss, a whispered secret, a triumph, or meaningful connection is laden with feelings of love, warmth, acceptance, friendship, and contentment.

After he is finished, David silently stares at him, his mismatched eyes wet with unfallen tears.

“Do you understand now?” Charles asks softly. 

David doesn’t answer. Charles watches him curl back into his chest, tucking himself under his neck and wrapping his arms tighter around Charles’ waist. He doesn’t know what that means, and he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to push David too far, but he hopes this can be a start to a resolution.

**~*~*~**

David doesn’t comment on Erik after that, apparently now content to ignore his existence altogether. Charles can hear his conflicting thoughts, simmering anger clashing with daydreams of life if Erik had stayed and he had both his Papa and Dad raising him ( _or Vati_ , David thinks, _that’s what Anya called him_ ) before David pushes the fantasy away. It’s clear he doesn’t want to think of Erik, or Anya or his grandparents or anything else related to his Lehnsherr genealogy. Charles elects not to push him about it.

He starts to wish then more than ever that Erik was here. That seems ridiculous to him, because everything that happened in 1962 aside, David is right. Erik did drop a baseball stadium on him and tried to kill Raven, but if he thinks about that night in Paris, he can remember with perfect clarity just how fragile Erik was, how vulnerable. Ten years in almost total isolation without his powers hadn’t broken him, but it certainly put some cracks in him. Against all odds and leanings to the contrary, he allowed Charles to see them and see him as someone who wasn’t impervious to a moment of weakness. They didn’t argue, didn’t talk about their past or the unspoken tension between them. Erik wouldn’t stop touching him, and not just in a sexual manner. He held him close the whole night, kept pressing kisses to his face and his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck and whispering endearments and assurances and generally being more tactile and needy than Charles had ever seen him. Charles had let him, had preened under his attention and convinced himself that it was enough to just be the object of Erik’s emotional breakdown even if the other man would go back to hating him the next day. He felt more of his anger dissipate than he was willing to admit at that time. He had said them sleeping together wouldn’t fix anything, but he needed that night, needed something to pour all his feelings into without letting it continue to fester. It just came out with a lot less violence and provided more clarity than he was anticipating. 

Sobriety has helped with that too. He can think clearly now, have genuine moments of introspection that aren’t tinged with whiskey tumblers and scotch on the rocks. He can admit to himself now that everything he and Erik had was real. Erik did love him, he felt it, he heard it, he saw it in intricate, synaptic detail. However, that also means admitting that Erik loved him and left him anyway, twice. It takes too much energy to think about it. He has put his love life on indefinite pause because everything else in his life is hurtling forward. 

His stomach is growing larger by the day. Betsy gets her kicks teasing Charles about his “planet-sized accessory”. Her jokes and nicknames for him can veer on the callous side, though never mean-spirited. She indulges in all his culinary cravings, no matter how disgusting and unhealthy they are. She sings to the babies, though she’ll never admit it. She shows up almost every day with fashion-forward maternity clothes for him and new baubles and gifts for the babies. It reminds him tangentially of having Sean’s friendship during his first pregnancy. Betsy won’t massage his back or fluff his pillows, but she provides comfort by remaining herself. Her behavior and determination to normalize the situation is a welcome safety blanket, especially considering that the first time around he was angry, bitter, hurt, and felt alone. He gives himself some credit for having grown beyond that point (at least according to Madelyne), but Betsy is a welcome buffer against that despair. Plus, she never teases him or gets uncomfortable when his raging hormones cause him to start crying for innocuous reasons like Hank does, so he can forgive her a few jokes.

Hank breaks out his old notes on Charles’ first pregnancy. His happiness about recording every minute facet of it for posterity’s sake leeches out of him every time Charles visits the lab. Hank hasn’t said much to him about Erik or his life choices, he never has outright. He can skim the disapproval from his surface thoughts but doesn’t delve deeper to get the full picture. Hank’s priority is Charles and the twins’ health. He is genuine about that, so whatever else simmers beneath it all, the two men are willing to put aside. 

David throws himself into the pregnancy with gusto. He’s excited to be a big brother and starts waiting on Charles hand and foot. He would be annoyed if it was anyone else. Truthfully, he is slightly annoyed still, but this is a better reaction than he was hoping for, so he lets it go. They are so close now that David has even begun sleeping in his bed with him.

Charles is resistant about it at first, but as with his previous pregnancy, it’s not always easy. The nausea has mostly abated now, which is earlier than it had with David. He has to use the bathroom a lot more with two babies pressing on his bladder but has managed to avoid any infections and doesn’t need to take any extra medication. It’s a scare when he is six months pregnant that prompts David to practically move into his bedroom.

He is asleep at the time, dreaming, unsurprisingly, of Erik. It is a dream this time, not a nightmare. They are in the hotel room in Paris lying down facing one another. Erik is staring at him, not saying anything, just staring with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Charles reaches out and brushes stray locks of hair off his forehead. He knows it’s not real, but he can feel the texture of the auburn strands on his fingertips, feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and the brush of his breaths against his palm. Erik moves his hand down to Charles’ swollen stomach, something they’ve never experienced together in real life and probably never will. His hand is a solid weight, caressing their unborn children and tears prickle at Charles’ eyes. This is one of the side-effects of his telepathy that he sees as both a pro and a con. His dreams are always vivid, almost recollections more than anything else. His perfect recall makes everything feel real. It’s easy to get lost in his dreamscapes. It’s made his nightmares particularly grueling to endure.

“Where are you?” Erik, (no, not Erik, Dream Erik, it’s important to remember that distinction) asks. 

Charles lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Where am I? Where are you? You’re the one who’s always leaving, not me.”

“You could’ve made me stay.” 

Charles scoffs a little.

“ _I_ could’ve made _you_ stay?” He repeats incredulously.

“It’s your power, not mine. I didn’t have the helmet on. You could’ve convinced me of anything,” Dream Erik says. 

His voice is smooth and deep as he brushes his knuckles over Charles’ cheek. He shivers at the feeling of goosebumps forming on his skin and struggles for a moment to remember this is just a dream.

“I couldn’t—”

“You took over my body to move the debris from yourself.”

“You dropped a baseball stadium on me. I couldn’t breathe,” Charles points out dryly.

“It would’ve been easy to tweak something around just that little bit,” Dream Erik continues as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I didn’t mean I physically couldn’t. What would’ve been the point? I don’t want to force you to stay, I want...” Charles’ voice breaks and he looks down at his distended stomach rather than Dream Erik’s eyes.

“Tell me,” he hedges.

Charles wants to tell him. He wants to lay himself bare and let the pieces fall where they may. It’s been weighing on him for too long, ten years too long.

 _But this is not Erik_ , he reminds himself.

“Does it matter? You said it yourself, human nature is too complicated for anything to be binary. Good and evil, love and hate, real and fiction, there are so many fine lines between it all. I’m here, you’re here. Everything else is just... confetti.” 

A laugh startles its way out of him.

“Confetti?” Charles repeats with amusement.

“Yes. It can all just fall away.” 

Charles shoots Dream Erik a sad smile.

“Not everything can just fall away,” Charles clarifies, placing a hand over where Dream Erik is still holding his stomach. 

They are silent for a long while before Dream Erik speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The vulnerability in this mental creation’s voice mirrors Erik’s that night in Paris so much that Charles feels like a spear has been thrown through his chest.

“I was... you saw how I was that night, in this room. You saw how much I needed you, needed something to keep me grounded, to let me know all of this was real and I was out of that prison where I was alone and couldn’t feel my powers, couldn’t talk to anyone worth speaking to. You know that. You know that because I know that.”

Charles nods wordlessly, feeling his eyes grow misty.

“If you had told me about him, I would’ve stayed.” 

Charles lets out a sharp breath before speaking, his doubt seeping into his words.

“Would you have really? Sometimes, I wonder if David would’ve been enough for you, if these babies would be enough. I wasn’t... I wasn’t enough.”

“That is not what it was,” Dream Erik protests.

“Wasn’t it? You thought I was too naïve and innocent, not truly touched by the world’s cruelty, and thus I would lead our kind straight to death and ruin. I suppose in some ways you were right. I let Sean and Alex and my students go straight to their deaths when I could’ve saved them. I let you go, I let Raven go, I let David down—”

“The past. These... insecurities are things of the past now.”

“They never go away. It doesn’t matter how sober I am, it’s always lurking in the background. Not just insecurities, but mistakes and losses too. They are as real to me as anything else has been. But… but I need to let go. I can’t bring these babies into the world with shackles on their feet, not the way I did to David. I can’t need you anymore. I can’t let myself fall apart without you again. I owe my children more than that. I owe Hank and Betsy and the future we want to build together more than that.”

“So why are we here?”

Charles let a sad smile cross his lips.

“Just because I can’t need you doesn’t mean I don’t want you still. You…” Charles clarifies, before trailing off again.

“Tell me. It’s just you and me. Anything you say is safe here. No one needs to know,” the other man reassures him. 

Charles reminds himself how true that is. This is his head. David and Betsy are asleep, he is safe here to say anything he wants.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved this way. Truly, deeply loved. Probably the only person I ever will. That _terrifies_ me because you hurt me in so many ways. You left me more than once and your actions have nearly killed me. And I hurt you too. I turned my back on you. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if it can be fixed,” Charles admits, letting a tear run down his face. 

Erik, not Erik, Dream Erik, whichever, reaches out and wipes his tear away.

“Soon. One day soon, we’ll be together again.”

“You can’t promise me that. You of all people, if that’s even what you are, cannot promise me that.”

“Once upon a time, I knew a young graduate overflowing with hope. Dig deep, find some of that and hold on to it until I come back. Because I will come back. I just need time. You do too, I think.”

“Maybe.” 

Dream Erik brushes his fingers through Charles’ long hair and leans forward before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Charles takes a moment to savor the press of lips, so sweetly familiar before his analytical mind takes over.

“Wouldn’t this be considered autoerotic stimuli?” Charles questions. 

Dream Erik’s lips pull into a smirk.

“Are you so academically inclined you can’t just say masturbation? And this is your mind, you know, you make it what you want. But if a dream is dubious at best for you, it could just be a memory instead.”

The room flips around him suddenly. It takes Charles a moment to realize that the room hasn’t changed, he is now on his stomach, his flat stomach. His sweaty skin sticks almost uncomfortably to the sheets beneath him and to the shirt trapping his arms behind his back. He is at a loss of where he is for a moment, then a familiar hand is holding his neck and chin, a familiar weight is pushing down on him as Erik thrusts inside him roughly and he remembers their night in Paris. This is one of the upsides to eidetic memory, being able to remember the good, pleasurable moments in his life with perfect clarity and telepathically recreating it, feeling it.

Charles groans at Erik’s harsh movements. This memory is of the second time they had sex that night. Charles wanted it hard and fast, wanted to feel something that would leave marks, evidence that this was real. Erik had needed the release as well. Staying stagnant in one place and then being thrown headlong into a mission left him harboring a wealth of unresolved emotion he needed to pour into something, and Charles was willing.

His moans deepen as Erik drives in harder. And he knows it’s a dream, somewhere deep down he knows, but it’s too much and it’s all he wants right now. It’s his head anyway, who will it hurt to get lost in it a little?

“Tell me,” Erik says, just like he had that night. And just like that night, Charles doesn’t answer. 

Erik turns him on his back. He grips a handful of Charles’ hair, pressing open kisses to his throat before he pushes into him again.

“Oh god,” he chokes out.

“Tell me, tell me you missed me,” Erik demands, echoing his previous demands.

“I missed you. I missed you. Erik, please,” Charles begs. 

His body is thrumming with pleasure as he feels, actually feels when Erik hits his prostate. He whimpers pathetically, but there is something else, something different, something that wasn’t there before. He ignores it and reaches up to hold Erik’s cheek.

“I missed you, I did. Don’t leave, please,” Charles says, letting the words flow from his lips even as his chest constricts. 

Erik kisses him harshly, not allowing their lips to part more than a second. It’s hot and too close, it’s too much and Charles can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

_I can’t breathe!_

He pulls away from Erik’s lips, mumbling the words over and over.

“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” 

It’s eerily reminiscent to when he was lying on a Cuban beach. For a second, he’s there on the sand with the sun beaming down on him, looking into Moira’s sad eyes telling her that he can’t feel his legs. In a blink, it’s gone and he’s staring at Dream Erik again whose eyes are wide.

“You need to wake up,” he informs him. 

Charles clutches his chest in panic.

_Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe._

“Wake up!”

Charles’ eyes fly open, taking in the dark silhouettes in his room before his burning lungs take precedence over acclimating himself back into reality. He still can’t breathe. He pushes himself up and feels hands assisting him. He looks into David’s fearful eyes swimming above him.

“Hold on.” 

He moves off the bed, flicks on the lamp, and then bustles back over to Charles, placing pillows behind him to help him sit up. It helps minutely, but it still feels like he isn’t getting enough air to his lungs. His heart pounds painfully in his chest and his head feels like it’s pounding. He’s sweating and his nerves are tingling uncomfortably throughout his body. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he’s afraid. David is by his side again, clutching his hands.

“It’s alright, Papa. Everything is going to be okay. Uncle Hank and Betsy are coming. They’re going to be here any minute. Just try to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Calm your mind and focus on breathing,” David coaches. 

Charles would laugh at his 11-year-old using his words to try to calm him, but he needs it, so he squeezes his hands back and tries to focus on calming himself down. Panicking isn’t going to help.

He’s not sure how long it takes for Hank and Betsy to burst into the room and then take him down to the lab. They hook him up to an oxygen machine and give him a mild tranquilizer, but it still takes an hour before the attack abates.

David stays by his side the whole time, clutching his hand. Charles holds his hand back, not willing to admit how fearful he is, but he is also unwilling to let go of the comfort of his son’s proximity. Hank runs all manner of tests while Betsy and David try to keep him relaxed and focused on breathing.

“I’ve run tests. Everything looks normal now. The babies aren’t in any distress. Your heart rate and blood pressure are still a little high, but that could be anxiety,” Hank says, sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Do you know what happened?” Betsy asks, squeezing Charles’ shoulder comfortingly.

“If I had to give my best guess, I would say it might be autonomic dysreflexia. It’s the most common complication that pregnant individuals with spinal cord injuries experience, regardless of the completion of the injury.”

“What is that? What does it mean?”

“It’s an abnormal response that occurs when your body is experiencing pain or discomfort below the level of your spinal cord injury. Maybe Braxton-Hicks contractions or some other pregnancy-related discomfort that was significant enough to alert the brain. The signals for pain or discomfort don’t get to the brain because of the SCI. As a result, the body’s blood pressure increases to dangerous levels. That explains the hypertension. It can also cause bradycardia, slowing of the heart rate, or in this case, tachycardia, which is an abnormally fast heart rate. In rare cases, it can cause respiratory distress. It doesn’t help that you were asleep. The babies are already pressing on your lungs at the best of times, not giving your lungs enough room to expand fully and properly oxygenate your blood and tissues. It’s worse when you’re lying down, especially if you’re on your back. It can cause the asthma-like attack that we saw tonight. I’m going to monitor you, but as long as nothing changes for the worse, you can go back to your room tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Charles mumbles behind his oxygen mask, appreciating his friend’s matter-of-fact tone. It helps to have things laid out before him as plainly as possible. He knows what’s wrong and what needs to be tackled, he doesn’t have to dwell on what-ifs.

“You almost died,” David says almost accusingly as Hank returns to his work and Betsy goes to her bedroom at Charles’ prompting.

“That’s an exaggeration. You heard Hank, it’s common.” 

David shoots him a small glare.

“You couldn’t _breathe_. You screamed for me in your head.” 

Charles didn’t remember that, but it clearly left David shaken.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, my darling.” 

David’s lips purse like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear before his face turns up in determination.

“I’m staying with you.” 

Charles tuts in disapproval.

“It’s a school night. You need your sleep.”

“Not here, though I’m not leaving, I’ll sleep here. I meant your room. I’m moving into your room until the babies are born. I’m gonna make sure nothing happens to you,” David says, nodding his head slightly as if the decision was made final with that one gesture. 

Charles raises an amused eyebrow.

“Darling—”

“What if you can’t call me next time? I’m staying where I can watch you.” 

Charles is about to point out he’s not David’s child before Hank speaks up.

“It’s not a bad idea. I’ll leave an oxygen machine in your room, but someone should be with you at night to make sure you stay off your back and nothing happens while you sleep.” 

David gives Hank a smile before moving to cuddle to Charles’ side.

“It’s just for nighttime. I’ll come to your room with my pillows so you can keep yours. Plus, you can read me my stories at night, so I benefit too other than just making sure you’re okay.”

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” Hank backs up from his computer. 

David smiles in his direction again.

“See? Uncle Hank agrees.” 

Charles opens his mouth and then closes it again before shrugging.

“So he does. How could I deny you with such an endorsement?”

**~*~*~**

After that scare, Charles continues as usual. David’s pregnancy was difficult, but the twins are murder on his back. He’s almost glad he can’t walk. He’s sure his feet would swell a lot worse. The nausea is still prevalent but not as much as it was with David and while he is in pain, it’s not as debilitating. He thinks it probably helps that he is not recovering from his spine injury this time. The emotional wounds were still raw then too. This time around, he takes things much easier. He imposes bedrest on himself even though Hank says the babies are healthy and Charles is doing as well as can be expected. He doesn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Besides the anomaly of being a pregnant man, having twins increases the risk of complications occurring. Being a recovering alcoholic and drug addict increases the risks, so does his paraplegia and his age. The arrival of 1974 saw Charles turn 42 years old. Charles has read that pregnancy in older women could lead to adverse side effects on their children: physical disabilities, mental retardation or developmental delays, and increased risk of stillbirths. He decides then and there to live as stress-free and relaxed as possible. David proves to be a huge source of relief there.

Having David in his room doesn’t prove to be such a bad thing. Every night his son shows up with his pillows, a book, and a tray of tea. They sit down and chat over a cup before Charles reads a chapter from a chosen book until David falls asleep. It feels like he’s getting precious moments he wasted back. There are several nights where David wakes him so he can turn on his side or helps him with his oxygen machine after Charles wakes unable to breathe. He feels better about it knowing he isn’t alone.

Like every night for the past couple of months, tonight, David walks into his room at 9 pm with a pillow under each arm. Two floating trays proceed him into the room, one holding a ceramic pot stewing with chamomile tea and two teacups and the other holding bowls of fresh strawberries and melted chocolate. A book floats into the room behind him. He has been getting much better with his telekinesis thanks to the combined efforts of Betsy’s tutelage and Charles’ encouragement. David pours Charles a cup with a few drops of honey and takes his own with two cubes of sugar before settling in beside him.

They usually talk about anything they can think of: David’s school day, upcoming events and tests, or sometimes Charles tells him stories about his childhood. David has gotten more and more curious about Raven now that he is going to be a big brother. Charles isn’t sure he is the best person to counsel him on that, seeing as how his sister ran from home. He hopes David will be better than him, but he’s confident he’ll be better than Cain if nothing else.

They are quiet for a moment, a lull in their conversation punctuated by sipping and chewing before David speaks again.

“Have you thought of names?”

“It’s still two months away from their birth, but I thought you might like to name them.” 

David’s eyes light up at that.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m going to need help with them, especially when I reopen the school. Who better than their big brother?” 

David sits back, thinking it over as Charles dips a strawberry in the chocolate.

“Do you remember my fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Mayberry?”

“Vaguely,” he answers truthfully.

“She was my favorite teacher. Her mind was so… bright. I’ve never felt another mind like hers. She really loved and believed in all of us. I used to talk to her sometimes about my feelings about us, nothing specific, but she always gave me great advice, encouraged me. Her first name is Lorna.”

“Lorna. I like that. What about your brother?” 

David is quiet for a long while. Charles patiently waits him out, half of his attention grabbed by the food beside him.

“Magnus Jakob. That’s our father’s middle name and our other grandfather’s name, right? I have your grandfather and father’s name as my first and middle name, so…” 

Charles is taken aback. This is the first time David has ever acknowledged Erik as his father in any way approaching positivity.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Charles answers eventually, trying not to let on how surprised and pleased he is.

“Lorna’s middle name can be Edith then, after our grandmother. That way, their names mean something important, just like mine.” 

Charles pulls David towards him, pressing a kiss to his head.

“You’re so smart, you know that?” 

David gives him a delighted smile.

For the first time, it strikes Charles that this is his new normal. He isn’t craving alcohol or the serum to shut out the world or gorging on his own pain, or dwelling on what he’s missing. Instead, he’s thinking about what he is gaining, his future. He settles in, pulling David even closer and enjoying this peaceful moment.

**~*~*~**

Just as with David, Lorna and Magnus are born via cesarean section after Charles’ body proves stubbornly unwilling or unable to perform the task his secondary mutation allows for. When he groggily comes to, his head swimming from the anesthesia and his stomach aching from the surgery, Betsy is at his side.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty? I thought you were going to stay knocked out, sleep the night away,” she comments once his eyes are open.

“Giving birth is tiring work, you know,” he croaks in return, coughing a little before taking a sip from the water cup within his reach.

“I don’t actually. What a world we live in where you do,” she jokes, turning so he can see the bundle in her arms.

“Magnus,” she states, handing the baby over to him.

The child blinks up at Charles with Erik’s eyes, his hair a peach fuzz of light auburn peaking from beneath the hat on his head. Charles takes a moment to take him in, absorb the weight of him in his arms as a tangible entity, another precious thing that he and Erik have managed to create from all the mess between them. He smiles down at his son, running a gentle finger over his forehead.

“Lorna,” he asks. 

Betsy nods to Charles’ left. David is lightly dozing in the reclining chair with the second bundle in his arms. When Lorna fusses, David shakes awake, rocking the baby like he has been doing it forever. David had taken his role so seriously that he checked out baby magazines from the library and took in all the information he could. The young telepath smiles at Charles when he realizes he is awake.

“Papa,” he exclaims and whispers at the same time, mindful of scaring the twins. 

Charles nods him over with a smile.

“Lorna has green hair,” David informs him offhandedly as he approaches. 

The older man raises an eyebrow at the non sequitur and glances at his daughter who has bright green hair and Erik’s eyes. Charles takes a moment to lament that genetics seems to have deemed his eyes undesirable in comparison to his former lover’s before staring down at Lorna and Magnus a moment more and reaching the same awareness he did when David was born. Lorna will be a mutant while Magnus will remain baseline, but that hardly matters in Charles’ eyes. All he feels the longer he looks at them is an overwhelming sense of love overshadowing any lingering doubts or fears he’s had since DC and Paris. He feels like he is in a better place than he’s been in years. He’s clean and sober. He has a goal to work towards for the future with the school. And now he has two new members of his family, little beings who will be counting on him for everything. He knows he won’t make the same mistakes of the past.

“They are both perfect,” he declares, leaning over to press a kiss to Lorna’s forehead before pulling David into his side.

“I will never leave you, my dears,” he whispers to them, echoing the same promise he made to David when he was born. 

This time, he intends to keep it.


	3. 1974 - 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles’ vision comes to fruition even as he is confronted with figures from Erik’s past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Pietro are introduced in this chapter. Their backstory is a mixture of the X-Men movie-verse, Marvel 616 and my own creative input. Also some other marvel characters mentioned in this chapter and a few background OCs.

It turns out that reopening a school is not as much work as Charles once feared. At least it’s not for him. He’s certain his name, money and bevy of lawyers has probably helped him bypass some of the lengthier difficulties there, but Charles is settled into the process and lets it come naturally. His focus is split anyway between the relaunch and the twins.

The twins have imbued the manor with new life and reinvigorated everyone with enthusiasm they’ve been lacking for a decade now. Betsy, who has expressed vehemently her aversion to becoming a mother, takes to the twins with the same ease as she did David. She uses her psychic energy to construct mobiles for them and other light shows to entertain them. Hank, for all that he remains disappointed at Charles for sleeping with Erik and getting pregnant again, plays loving uncle to them regardless of his feelings on the matter. It’s a little harder for Charles to slip back into the groove of things.

Raising an infant is territory he has largely forgotten, much less raising two while in a wheelchair. Just like before, he has help from Hank, and now Betsy and David but it is still difficult. He can’t bounce around with them, though he compensates by buying a swing and he has a rocking chair. Long walks around the house aren’t possible. He wheels around as much as he can, but it’s difficult to steer and hold even one infant at the same time. Sometimes their blanket gets caught in his wheels and he has to waste time detangling himself from them while the twins get increasingly agitated at the lack of focus on them, unwittingly projecting their displeasure to him and dampening his own mood. There are also the sleepless nights, but Charles is more used to that from his nightmares so that’s not as bad. And there are many sleepless nights.

Lorna is a temperamental baby. Sometimes she cries just to get attention. She doesn’t much mind who it’s from, but she’s already proving to be a daddy’s girl, wanting to be attached to Charles most hours out of the day. Sometimes he indulges her despite Betsy’s admonishments that he’s going to spoil her. He justifies it by pointing out that Lorna’s his only girl, what else could he do but spoil her a little? And she misses him, surely Betsy isn’t so cruel as to leave a precious baby without her Papa.

Magnus is the exact opposite. He is almost always quiet, alarmingly so. He could be in a room with someone and you’d never know it. Even when he does cry and fuss, he does it quietly, more sniffling than outright wails. David was an even-keeled baby, but even he had his epic crying fits. After the first month, Charles had grown concerned enough with Magnus’ abnormal behavior to take him into town to a pediatrician, but she just told him that all babies are different and to thank his lucky stars he didn’t have a colicky one.

David throws himself into brotherhood with gusto. He is ever attentive to the twins’ needs, making bottles and changing diapers without complaint, even when Charles tells him he doesn’t need to. He will wake up in the night to rock the babies back to sleep before Charles can get up to check on them. Every night, he reads them a bedtime story. The twins always radiate love, or at least an infant’s concept of love, when they see David. He thinks it’s partly that unsullied telepathic glow of emotion they let off that keeps David going back to them as much as possible. It’s only matched by how they feel when they see Charles. He has forgotten how pure the feelings an infant projects are. It’s a little disconcerting at first to feel that emotion directed at him in such an uncomplex yet genuine way, but it also cements how much he loves them and refuses to let them down the way he did David.

He has emptied the house of liquor in any place he could reach, and the serum is locked away somewhere by Hank where Charles can’t find it even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t. He wants nothing to dull the brilliance of his children’s minds. Even without the twins, he can’t imagine severing the mental link he has with David now when it has become a constant source of comfort for them both. His little family has become the sun around which he orbits. He would do nothing to change it.

**~*~*~**

Reopening the school is all well and good in the abstract but doesn’t mean much if there aren’t students. He remembers the names Logan gave him: Cyclops, Storm and Jean. Not a lot to go on there. He doesn’t know their power sets, doesn’t even know their true names. He remembers seeing Jean in Logan’s head, a tall woman with fiery red hair. Just from his recollection the power coming off her was immense, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He supposes if her abilities truly are that great, he should be able to find her even as a child. Perhaps her mind will call to Cerebro and make things easier for him.

As it turns out, his first students come to him.

**~*~*~**

There is an insistent knocking on the door.

Charles, Betsy, Hank and David look at one another from across the kitchen island where they sit eating dinner. Lorna and Magnus are in their respective bassinets next to Charles, the two four-month olds not wanting to be too far from everyone.

“We’re not expecting a package, are we?” Hank asks. Charles reaches out to their guests just as another banging sounds.

_He had better be here. Fucking Erik, dragging Pietro into his messes. How’d he even know about them? Natalya, probably. Shows up and my house damn near blows up. Why the hell did he leave? He’d better have answers._

Charles pulls back from the woman’s mind abruptly, his own mind racing. Someone was here looking for Erik. How did they know of any connection between them? It didn’t sound like the CIA or the FBI.

Charles’ thoughts are cut off when a sharp breeze rustles his hair and everyone else’s at the table. He whips around and sees Peter Maximoff leaning casually against the sink staring at them with a grin.

“Were you guys gonna ever let us in, or just listen to my aunt banging forever? She’s pretty relentless. She won’t stop even if I tell her I already searched the place and found zero internationally-wanted criminals, unless this fine lady here has something she wants to share with the class,” Peter says, talking a mile a minute.

Charles stares at him.

“How did you get in?”

Peter gives him a look that says that was the stupidest question ever.

“Cute babies, man. Hey, what’s with the wheelchair and why do you guys have a strangely prison-like basement? You’re not doing some weird experimental testing or anything, right? Because that would royally suck. Those babies aren’t, like, test tube babies or something, are they? Didn’t grow ‘em in a lab, huh?”

“Papa, who is this?” David asks once Peter has finally stopped talking. Charles shakes his head a little.

More banging cuts him off.

“You searched the whole house, but left your aunt standing outside,” he points out, switching gears.

Peter jolts a little, seemingly just remembering he didn’t show up alone.

“Oh, right.”

He disappears and then reappears in an instant sitting on the counter with a plate of the nui xào bò Betsy made.

“Mmm, this is good. What is this?”

Charles decides to ignore the teenager and wheels out of the kitchen to turn his attention to the other visitors, specifically the one who was currently shouting for Erik.

“Lehnsherr! Where the hell are you?! I swear to God, you better get your crazy ass out here! You know your parlor tricks don’t scare me!” The woman shouts with a slight accent Charles can’t place, but it sounds Eastern European.

He rolls into the foyer to see a short dark-haired woman in her mid-forties with olive-toned skin and angry brown eyes staring up the stairs as if expecting Erik to appear. Behind her, a man and a teenaged girl of an identical demographic linger along with a young light-skinned brunette.

“Erik isn’t here,” Charles informs her, interrupting her tirade promising injury on Erik if he doesn’t show his face. It would be amusing if he weren’t so confused. The woman startles a little and gives him a once over.

“Hello, my name is Charles Xavier. This is my home. I’m afraid I’m at somewhat of a loss as to your business here,” he says politely.

“Charles Xavier? The same Charles Xavier who showed up to my house a year ago while I was on vacation and talked my teenaged nephew into breaking a domestic terrorist out of jail? _That_ Charles Xavier?” She clarifies, stepping closer in a threatening manner.

Charles winces at her words. Not his best moment, but desperate times.

“We needed Erik urgently for a mission of the utmost importance. I didn’t want to involve Peter, but it was the only way.”

“Your “mission of the utmost importance” is the reason why we’ve been getting followed around by the FBI for the last year. And just when they were starting to get off our backs, Erik shows up in the middle of the night trying to recruit Pietro to his ridiculous cause for world domination.”

Charles felt his heart skip a beat.

“You’ve seen Erik recently?”

There must be something in his voice, because the woman’s indignant rage lessens a little.

“Yeah, about two weeks ago. Like I said, he showed at night trying to get Pietro alone. I walked in on them. We got in an argument, but the FBI was still watching us. Something alerted them and they turned my house into a warzone trying to apprehend him, but… well, I wasn’t exactly just about to let him get arrested, even if he is a major asshole. He told us about this place, said it was safe for us.”

Charles doesn’t disagree but he’s still thrown for a loop by the fact that there’s apparently some connection between Peter and Erik that he didn’t mention when they went to him for help or Erik and this human woman.

“I’m sorry. How exactly do any of you know Erik?”

The woman sighs, deflating from her tension and waves the other three family members of hers forward.

“Didn’t even introduce myself, did I? My name is Marya Maximoff. This is my husband, Django, our niece, Wanda, and our daughter, Ana. You already know Pietro.”

“It’s Peter now, Tetka. Jeez,” Peter says, appearing on the stairs.

Marya shoots him a glare before snapping at him in a language that Charles’ telepathy identifies as Serbian before quickly translating the woman’s words for his understanding.

“You were named Pietro at birth. You’re not changing it to suit American tastes. And I’m still angry at you for all the shit you pulled while I was gone. Don’t know what I was thinking leaving you with Mona, thinking she’d keep you on the up and up.”

Peter looks cowed by the rebuke, but Charles steers the conversation back on track.

“And you know Erik from…?”

Peter snorts at that.

“Oh, me and E-man go way, way back.”

“Pietro…” Django warns, speaking up for the first time.

“What? We came here looking for him partly for that reason. Pops isn’t here though.”

“Pops?” Charles asks.

Marya sighs before elaborating.

“Erik is Pietro and Wanda’s father.”

**~*~*~**

Charles can’t say exactly what happened after that revelation because there was too much blood rushing through his ears and too many jumbled thoughts to retain any memories. He’s pretty sure he offered the Maximoffs accommodations for their troubles, especially since they were now wanted by the FBI for helping Charles and Erik. He thinks he wheeled back to the kitchen and finished his dinner before taking the twins and David with him for their nightly ritual. It isn’t until he’s laying down in bed that he can let this new information sink in.

Erik has children, living children other than the ones he has with Charles. He isn’t sure what he feels, what he’s supposed to feel. They are obviously old enough that he had them before he met Charles. He knew Erik had Anya very young, when he was just 18, and he was 22 or 23 when she died l. He was working with the Mossad from 1958 to 1961 until he went rogue, that means he met Peter and Wanda’s mother somewhere between 1953 and 1957, and the twins were born in either ‘57 or ‘58. Charles was still a college student then, more worried about using his corny pick-up lines to woo men and women and downing outrageous drinks to impress fair-weather friends than the concerns Erik was probably facing. Practical concerns like eating, sleeping safely and how he was going to get his revenge on Shaw. He isn’t sure he wants to know the story of Erik and his twins’ mother. Obviously, it didn’t end well because otherwise he and Erik never would’ve met.

Charles sighs to himself, wondering what he’s going to do. He has resolved to tell Erik the truth if he ever gets that chance, should that extend to his children? Does Erik know about them? He went looking for Peter, perhaps he realized the truth. But then he didn’t go after Wanda too, so maybe not. Did Peter tell him about their connection? He doesn't seem like the secretive type. If he knew, why would Erik have left anyway? Perhaps Charles is getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t even know if they truly are Erik’s anyway. If they are, then they are David, Lorna and Magnus’ siblings. He doesn’t think he can keep that relationship from them knowingly. Besides which, David need only catch a single stray thought to know the truth. Charles doesn’t want to get into an argument with his son if he can avoid it, not when they’re in a good place now. If he does tell the Maximoffs, he’ll have to tell them how the children came to be, which means telling them about the nature of his and Erik’s relationship, people he doesn’t know but is now irrevocably entangled with.

He sighs and rolls over, briefly regretting that he doesn’t drink anymore. This is exactly the type of thing he’d get wasted over, but he pushes that feeling away. He reaches out with his powers and brushes the minds of his children. All three are safe and asleep, dreaming peaceful things. He turns on his side, positioning his legs comfortably. Tomorrow is another day. He can deal with all this then.

**~*~*~**

As it turns out, David finds out before Charles can tell him. He barges into his father’s room the next morning before he’s even woken up with Peter on his heels. Charles startles awake looking at the pair blearily.

“Wha…? What’s wrong? Is it the babies? Are you alright?” He asks, getting increasingly worried.

David waves him off.

“It’s nothing like that, Papa. It’s just… he says Erik is his father, him and his sister.”

“Correction, I didn’t say anything. Creep read my mind.”

“I’m not a creep,” David says, rearing back a little with a shadow of hurt and indignation.

“You were inside of my head. It’s a little fucking creepy, you have to admit,” Peter retorts.

Charles stares for a moment at the two before sighing.

“His aunt did say something about it yesterday, that’s true.”

The room is silent which Charles supposes must be rare for Peter, or the kid is just sleepy.

“So, you’re my big brother?”

Peter’s eyebrows raise to his hairline.

“Huh? I thought Charles was your father.”

“He is. Erik is too,” David says simply.

“You mean you and Daddy-O were…” Peter trails off, making lewd gestures with his hands as David looks on with disgust.

Charles takes the time to study him. Now that he’s paying attention, the resemblance to Erik is undeniable. Peter has Erik’s facial structure, from the jawline to the cheekbones, to his eyes because apparently all of Erik’s children inherit his eyes. He’ll have to check Wanda to see if she did too. He wonders how he didn’t see it before. In his defense, he was high, drunk and anxious, he was hardly paying attention to the teenaged kleptomaniac with him. Plus, Peter hardly stayed still long enough to assess him. The boys are still staring at him waiting for an answer. Charles groans a little.

“Wait, how does that work? I wasn’t an ace in school, but pretty sure I would’ve learned something about male pregnancy if that was a thing.”

“It’s complicated, Peter, but David, Lorna and Magnus are biologically mine and Erik’s children. Thus, they are you and Wanda’s siblings. Can I go back to sleep now?”

David shakes a little, seemingly just realizing he’s woken his exhausted single father at… 5:37 am to ask a question that could’ve waited four more hours if Charles was lucky and the twins slept well.

“Sorry Papa, we’ll go.”

David turns to go, but Peter stands frozen in shock.

“I mean, I saw you guys having eye-sex in the elevator, but I didn’t think…” the teen mumbles before David gives him a little mental nudge to leave the room and Peter finally follows him out the door allowing Charles to flop back down to the bed (without bothering to chastise David for the flagrant misuse of his powers).

He rubs his hands over his face tiredly. That’s that secret out of the bag. He has no delusions that Peter will not tell his entire family once he gets a chance, he just doesn’t know how much the teen is going to exaggerate everything, but he pulls his covers over his head nonetheless. He is not dealing with this mess before he’s had at least another three hours of rest.

**~*~*~**

Having the Maximoffs integrate into life at the manor proves to be smoother than anticipated.

In spite of being baseline, Marya and Django have been aware of the existence of mutants since their adolescence. Django’s father had been a mutant, his sister, Natalya, inherited the same powers and Wanda did as well. They were also already aware of Erik’s leanings towards both men and women, so his personal history with him wasn’t as much of a shock to them as it was to Wanda and Peter, though they remained perfectly respectful about it if not curious (Wanda) and slightly weirded out (Peter). They were all more taken aback about the whole pregnant man thing than the telepathy or queerness. Peter kept giving Charles looks that ranged from alarmingly curious to almost offensively disgusted, though it was mainly because he kept thinking what would happen if he himself fell pregnant. His imagination ranged from the wildly inaccurate to the disconcertingly gory. Charles had to tell Django and Marya to educate Peter properly on sexual reproduction or he would do it himself. He was not going to subject himself, much less David, to another of Peter’s daydreams about Charles’ perfectly innocent and lovely twins ripping their way out of his torso in violent and grisly detail. That hiccup aside, they had all come to terms so the Maximoffs could have an extended residence at the mansion and for any relationship that can be built between the five children to progress in its own way.

David, who has always been eager for more family, takes to the older twins with just as much fervor as he did the younger ones. Charles is initially unsure of what influence Peter is going to have on David, that kid’s mind is a strange place and David is always looking even when Charles reprimands him, but despite the occasional bickering the boys get along well. Peter introduces David to rock music, horror movies, twinkies and arcades. He has even begun teaching David to play the guitar. David seems genuinely happy, so Charles lets his doubts go so long as Peter doesn’t encourage him to steal anything.

The teenaged speedster proves to be what Charles would describe as a model big brother. He’s surprisingly patient with the children. He sits down and colors or has tea parties with Ana. Charles has rolled past the nursery multiple times and seen Peter singing to the twins, usually ballads from Bowie, Queen, The Who or Led Zeppelin. He was making up for calling David a freak because of his telepathy by now using it to stage pranks, usually on poor Hank. He’s a loquacious kid with a near boundless energy. He reminds Charles more of Sean than he ever does of Erik. He’s of two minds about it. It hurts, brings back that old grief and guilt he feels over his former student but also makes him think of happier memories, of the wide grin on Sean’s face when he first flew, or his reassuring presence and uplifting attitude after Cuba even when Charles was in no mood for it. Peter has a similar undaunted attitude that helps to lift the overall atmosphere of the manor.

Wanda is the more reserved of the two. He struggles to find much of Erik in her besides his eyes. He supposes Wanda takes from her mother in appearances. Her hair flows in wavy ebony locks with what looks like natural crimson-red highlights. Her skin is the same olive tone as Marya and Django. She is skinny, almost willowy, but tall, a couple inches taller than Charles was when he could stand. But her height and eyes seem to be it.

She is quiet. Not shy or timid, just aloof, but not unfriendly. She immediately takes to the twins and they to her. She offers her help to Hank and Charles whenever possible. She enjoys spending time alone in the library and hangs out with Betsy in the bunker to hone their abilities. She teaches David how to bake and practices telekinesis with him, even though hers expresses very differently. Django calls her powers “chaos magic”, says it’s what his father called it when he wielded the same power. Describing Wanda’s powers as magic wouldn’t be wholly inaccurate given it’s mercurial and undefined nature. She is clueless about the extent of it, but she can manipulate matter and energy, project it and absorb it, she can manipulate people’s perception of reality as well and can glean some thoughts with contact from her red “magic” and that is just what they know. Her control waxes and wanes. Charles begins teaching her and Peter how to control their abilities as well as opening arithmetic classes to them, much to Peter’s chagrin and Marya’s approval. It is a school afterall, it’d be a waste not to teach the students that are there, so he formally enrolls the two of them and Ana as well. Despite being human, she cannot go to a public school given the government’s tracking of her family, so he begins tutoring her.

Wanda’s mind is also quite different from anything else he’s encountered. Betsy and David have extreme difficulty getting reads on her. Charles can get stray thoughts sometimes, hear her projections, but most of the time it’s impressions or the tail-end of sentences, not a full thought. It’s not the same as with Peter, whose mind sometimes moves too fast to read comfortably, instead Wanda’s mind sometimes feels like cut ribbons flowing within a space, unwilling to be latched onto and slipping through his fingers. Other times it’s like there is a solid wall between her mind and the world outside of it. It is unlike any shields he has ever felt. He has a feeling her powers might be providing a natural resistance to telepathy. David is confounded by it and complains, but Wanda will just smile secretively, before tapping her finger on his nose and saying,

“No peeking, mlađi brat.”

Wanda is also unlike Erik in temperament, but all the children are, though they show shades where they can. David, for all his sweetness, can hold a grudge like no one's business. On one hand, Charles figures he could’ve gotten it from him, but he also has a penchant for exacting revenge that Charles certainly didn’t give him. Peter, for all his exuberant energy and obnoxiously loud personality, has a sharp wit and sarcasm that calls to Erik’s. Wanda, though witty when she wants to be, doesn’t seem to show any of those traits. She is an even-tempered girl, hasn’t raised her voice in all the time she’s been here, hasn’t gotten more than annoyed before calming herself. She counterbalances Peter’s energy well and proves to be a natural caregiver in her interactions with her younger siblings and cousin. He only sees Erik in her once.

Charles, despite the disconcerting introduction, decides he likes Marya pretty early on. She is a sharp-tongued straight-shooter and he appreciates her candor. She chews him out for taking Peter on a dangerous mission and then hears him out when he explains what it was for. She doesn’t question him too much about the pregnancy or his relationship with Erik so much as she asks what Erik was like when he was here, how he was doing. Charles has not gotten to speak to anyone who truly understands how he feels about Erik from an inside point of view. Betsy doesn’t know him and can lend a sympathetic ear, but only from a bystander’s perspective. If he talks to Hank, it will devolve into an argument about how Erik is the scum of the Earth. He highly doubts Raven will want to speak to him about Erik, if she ever gets around to speaking to him again. Having an intimate conversation about Erik with David is out of the question, even if David doesn’t seem to hate him anymore.

Marya is different. Marya knows all the complicated layers of Erik, the good and the bad. She can understand having conflicted feelings regarding him because she does as well. When she thinks of him, Charles gets impressions of familial fondness, annoyance, affection, anger and guilt. She wants to see him again but wants him far away from her, she wants to talk to him, and to smack him upside the head. Marya doesn’t judge Charles for anything he feels, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else. He hasn’t felt this unjudged in a while.

He and Marya are sitting in his study, discussing when she knew Erik back in the day. Charles, who doesn’t know nearly enough about Erik’s past, sits in rapt attention absorbing her words and her recollective memories of this time so long ago.

“Django’s the one that found him when we were living in Novi Pazar in Serbia. Django was a dollmaker but was working as a bit of a pickpocket on the side. Desperate times and all. We lived on the border of Transia and many there hated the Romani people, thought Hitler should’ve exterminated the lot of us. Anyway, one day Django tried to pickpocket Erik. Erik nearly broke his hand. The two of them got in a fight and Erik used his powers. He was noticed. It drew a mob. Transians were intolerant of just about anything and anyone, but especially of us filthy magicians as they saw the Romani and they thought Erik was one of us. Django got him out of there and invited him to come to our tribe. We took in strays frequently and it was clear Erik had no one at the time. He was grieving and angry and lost. The war had been hard on us too, we were still recovering and he just… fit in with us. We all became rather close quickly, the three of us. My mother was fond of him, took to him like he was her son. I think he needed that maternal affection more than he’d ever admit. He was the one that pushed Django to make a move with me.”

Marya laughs a little at a memory of Django presenting her with flowers and an elaborately carved doll made to look like her with Erik hovering supportively in the background. Charles cracks a smile at it as well. After a minute though, Marya’s smile leaves her face and a glint of anger and guilt shines in her eyes.

“I wanted to return the favor to him. I thought he was lonely. He never showed more than a passing interest in anyone, despite my mother’s frequent attempts to set him up. He still wasn’t quite over his Magda. My sister-by-law, Natalya, was easily the most beautiful woman in all of Novi Pazar and a great many places beyond. Her fire was... I should’ve left well enough alone, but I thought Erik would appreciate her personality and her powers as well. We called it magic, what you would call a mutation, but it made him feel not so alone. Natalya was the live fast, die young type but I really did think it suited Erik for that time being. I didn’t think he needed to marry her, just get out of his head for a while. She never stuck around long so I’d thought it’d be a quick fling and nothing more, but soon she started taking him with her on her trips. I learned what they were doing: hunting down Nazis, killing anyone who stood in their way. I didn’t outright disagree with it, but I could see how it changed him, darkened his soul, but he didn’t listen to me when I warned him about the path he was on. Eventually, Natalya left him behind too and didn’t come back. I suspect she knew she was pregnant and didn’t want to be told to slow down. She knew it would change things for him, that he’d want to settle, raise the children properly. She couldn’t have that. He left us not long after to continue the crusade alone and she showed up a year later with the twins. She left them with Django and I and then she was off again.”

Charles takes a moment to absorb all of that. It’s odd to think of someone without ulterior motives helping to shape who Erik is. He always gave the credit for that to Shaw, but Charles supposes this Natalya helped to reinforce his penchant for vengeance if not created it.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where is she now?”

“Talya spent the twins’ first four years breezing in and out of their lives. In that time, Django and I had a son, Mateo. We were a family, a happy one. When the twins were six, they manifested.”

 _That’s quite early, but David manifested at two years old. Perhaps a genetic link. I should keep a keen eye out for Lorna._ Charles muses to himself.

“We weren’t too surprised about Wanda. Her powers went back generations. Pietro’s power threw us for a loop though. Natalya saw opportunity in it. She took the twins away under cover of night. Others in our tribe tried to stop her and she attacked them. My mother and Mateo... they were killed during her escape.”

Marya quiets then, a wave of grief overtaking her momentarily. Charles watches her somber reminiscence of her family but doesn’t take the pain away. That would be too presumptuous of him.

“Natalya went on to use the twins as weapons in her missions. They saw things they should’ve never seen, did things they should’ve never had to do in the name of their mother’s vengeance. We found them again when they were eight years old. We took them and ran, ran to America and didn’t look back. Last year, the vacation Django and I went on? It wasn’t really a vacation. Word passed back to us from the tribe that Natalya was asking around about us, trying to find us, trying to find the twins. We went there to confront her about it. She says she wants them back, says they belong with her. She didn’t even acknowledge what she took from us, from them. She hasn’t changed. We just—”

Marya stops as the items in the room begin to rattle, including Charles’ wheelchair. They turn to the doorway and see Wanda standing there, her red magic flowing from her hands and illuminating her eyes. Marya stands up abruptly, but cautiously.

“Wanda?”

The girl doesn’t respond. She hardly looks like she’s breathing.

“Wanda, you need to relax,” Marya continues, her voice calm but urgent.

“Smiri se molim te.”

Wanda ignores her aunt’s words, her body starting to shake slightly. Charles reaches out, trying to calm her down. He recoils as he’s hit with a wave of emotion, an unadulterated rage that he only ever felt from one other person in the world.

“Wanda, please,” Marya pleads, but the girl seems too far gone.

Wanda’s powers flare out of her just as a blur of blue whisks her away, but by then it’s too late. A wave of red sends everything in the room flying, including Charles and Marya. They both grunt as they hit the wall behind them and then slump to the floor, the room filling up with the sounds of everything else crashing against the walls, the floor, the ceiling and the bookshelves. Neither of them is seriously hurt, but everyone in the house is shocked by the seemingly unprovoked action from the quietest of the house’s occupants.

Wanda and Peter don’t come back for another three hours after that, but Charles can feel them off his periphery as the rest of the house’s residents spend that time cleaning the study after Hank checks Charles and Marya out.

Charles is still there at the coffee table with Ana, who is sitting next to him reading “The Tale of Peter Rabbit” while Lorna and Magnus sit on his lap pulling on the ears of the little girl’s stuffed bunny. David is replacing the last of the books on the floor when Wanda returns. She announces herself by floating the books David is reaching for back to their proper places on the shelf.

“Wanda!” David and Ana exclaim happily, running up to her but stopping short when she raises a hand to halt their progress. David shuffles a little in place nervously.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I just needed some time. I’m sorry if I scared you, mlađi brat.”

“Are you— are you okay now?” Ana asks hesitantly.

Wanda shoots her a tremulous smile.

“I will be. I need to speak with Charles.”

“Will you two finish the story with the twins in their nursery?”

David nods and takes the two infants before shuffling reluctantly from the room with Ana following behind. When Charles looks back at Wanda, she has a face full of guilt, shame and nervousness. He shoots her a reassuring smile and waves her inside.

“Are you certain you're alright, my dear?” He asks once she enters properly and sits across from him.

“I should be asking you that. I’m sorry. I don’t usually lose control like that anymore.”

“You were quite angry,” Charles comments.

Wanda looks down, fiddling with her hands.

“It can be a good motivator, rage, but it can also be a hinderance from reaching your full potential.”

“I just… My mother. I can’t… even if I just think of her, I…”

Charles can see what she means clearly as the items on the coffee table begin to rattle, some of them starting to melt as Wanda manipulates their molecular structure, others morphing with their neighbors as flares of red energy leave her body. Charles reaches over and takes her trembling hand.

“You know, upon first getting to know you, I didn’t see much of your father in you, but this is a problem that he struggled with, one he continues to struggle with I imagine: the anger, the rage. I tried to help him with it as best as I could, that’s not accounting for success or failure though.”

Wanda looks up at him, her eyes conflicted.

“How?”

“I told him that I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity. He already had rage down pat, I helped him access his serenity through his remembrances of his childhood with his parents, memories that were suppressed or ignored or forgotten.”

“You really believe that helps?”

“It worked for me. I had a lot of repressed rage as a teen. My stepfather was abusive, and my stepbrother wasn’t better, my mother cared more about a liquor bottle than me. The only person in the world I had was my sister and I had to protect her. When I got angry, bad things happened to people around me, so I found my center. Rage lay where my stepfather and brother could hurt me with impunity but there was serenity in memories with my sister and my grandfather and father before they died, small moments with my mother. I used the memories to hone my control. Your mother is a point of rage, yes, but I know you have many good memories to act as a counterbalance to it. In moments like this when the rage becomes too much, you have to temper it or it will consume you and lash out.”

“It sounds easy when you say it,” Wanda chokes out, another flare of red pulsing in her eyes.

“Harder in practice, I know, but try. Close your eyes and remember.”

He watches the teen for a moment as she struggles with herself, but eventually her thoughts become clearer to him than they ever have before. At first, it’s memories of who he assumes is her mother. He sees the woman with a younger Wanda and Peter, instructing them to help her break into houses and old military facilities. He sees the twins standing huddled and scared as they watch their mother murder people in front of them, feels their fear as they are instructed to commit murder at only 7-years-old and their shock and pain at her punishments when they disobey her.

Charles pushes a wave of calmness towards Wanda, made easier by their skin-to-skin contact. It takes a while, but soon there are memories of her and Peter protecting one another, Peter comforting Wanda after their mother forces her to kill someone with a tight hug and a cookie he’d stolen. He sees Marya and Django taking them away to safety, sitting up with them at night to soothe away nightmares. There are simple, but cherished memories of Marya brushing Wanda’s hair, Django teaching her to ride a bike, she and Ana playing with dolls, Peter running with her on his back. There are more recent memories as well of having a flour fight with David in the kitchen, holding Lorna for the first time, getting an unprompted smile from Magnus. Soon, the energy radiating off her begins to dissipate and the rattling and transfiguring items settle. The two open their eyes and Charles shoots Wanda a small smile as he wipes at a stray tear on his cheek. She is sitting in surprise with drying wetness on her cheeks as well.

“It worked,” she says with wonder.

“I can’t claim that it will forever, or that it’s a catch-all method, but it’s a start. We have a lot of work to do, but we’ll manage.”

“You mean you’re not kicking me out? I’m dangerous. I could hurt someone, maybe even David or Ana or the twins.”

“The point of all this is to offer a safe place for mutants, not to cast them aside out of fear. That’s the very thing I want to provide a haven against. You’re young. When I was your age, my telepathy was a dangerous and ungainly thing. I hurt people as well and I still feel guilty about that. I wish I had a place like this. Accidents happen, Wanda. They’ll happen again as you’re still learning, but that’s the point of a school in the first place. To teach you.”

Wanda stares at him a moment before shooting him a grateful smile.

“If you were always like this, I can see what my father saw in you, but what’s your excuse? Do you have some fetish for magenta capes and gaudy helmets?”

Charles chuckles slightly, caught off guard by the teasing comment.

“If I plead a moment of insanity, will you believe me?”

“A decade-long moment?”

“Well, I never did claim mental stability, did I?”

“Makes two of us.”

The two share another smile before Charles squeezes her hand comfortingly once more.

“You’ll be alright, my dear. You ought to go to Marya. She’s awfully worried about you.”

Wanda sighs but nods.

“Thank you, Charles,” she says quietly, before surprising him with a peck on the cheek and leaving. Charles watches her go and he gets a flash of Erik right after he moved the satellite, the grief and the triumph wafting off him slamming into Charles just like it is from Wanda now. The resemblance between the two is hardly farfetched to him in this moment. He wonders if Erik could see it, the rage inside of Wanda, recognized it for what it is and knew the damage it could do. Charles decides that Erik did see it.

He doesn’t bother to wonder why the other man sent his eldest children here of all places anymore.

**~*~*~**

His next students come, thankfully, the way they are meant to. It takes a few tries before he locates any of Logan’s suggestions, but in that time he’s able to find Alison Blaire, Piotr and Illyana Rasputina, and Petra Kindberg. Cerebro helps him to locate Jean Grey eventually, a seven-year-old telekinetic and telepathic whose powers are proving quite difficult to control, not for emotional reasons like with Wanda, but from the sheer amount of power she possesses. John and Elaine Grey are reluctant to part with their daughter, but ultimately decide she is safer at the school. He finds Storm, or Ororo Munroe, a ten-year-old orphan living on the streets of Cairo able to control the weather.

Finding Warren Worthington III proves to be a huge boon to the school’s exposure. His mother, a debutante turned civil rights lawyer, enrolls him. His father, an anti-mutant scientist, resolved to “fix” his son when Warren began to grow his wings and has been trying to develop some cure to mutantism. If Charles were being charitable about it all, he’d say that as a father he understands Dr. Worthington’s concerns. The growing process is painful for poor Warren, leaves him writhing in agony most days as his bones shift and expand and grow. However, seeing as how the school is more than equipped to care for Warren through this trying time and the fact that Dr. Worthington never bothers to make time to see his ailing son, he’s not inclined to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Neither he nor Warren’s mother will allow his removal for fear of his safety and the ensuing custody battle between the Worthingtons thrusts Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters into the public eye.

Coverage varies in terms of tone, but Warren’s mother tells her inner circle about them and the school gets an influx of donors and people supporting the idea of a mutant academy, some for disheartening reasons involving segregating mutants and humans, but others recognize the need for a specialized school to teach mutants both arithmetic and control of powers in a healthy and safe environment. The donations allow him to build a greenhouse in the backyard and renovate the horse stables. He installs a basketball court on the grounds and a tennis court as well as a baseball field in the middle of the track to bolster the school’s appeal, not that he needs the money, but donations equal support and that only helps their image. They also convert several of the bunkers into what Hank calls the danger room, a place to contain the more volatile side effects of training young mutants. They can simulate various scenarios to help with control and focus and contain the more dangerous mishaps.

Enrollment explodes then. They get applications from all over the country and by the end of the year, the school has swelled from seven students to forty with another twenty students due to start next semester, not to mention the lengthy waitlist.

Life seems to skyrocket forward as he settles into his new life. Before he knows it, it’s 1975. Lorna and Magnus turn one and a few weeks later, Wanda and Peter turn 17. One school semester ends and zips into another. He gets thirty new students and David turns 12. It feels strange to think that just two years ago he was a mess of a man with no prospects and little to no motivation to change his life and now he’s the headmaster of a burgeoning haven. Children and their parents are once again looking at him like some kind of savior. He still thinks it’s undeserved praise, but it’s a small complaint to have when compared to what he’s managed to gain.

**~*~*~**

Alex shows up with his younger brother, Scott, who has been effectively blinded by his powers, and a frightened ten-year-old dark blue boy named Kurt. They welcome him with open arms, and he brings news of Raven. Her and Alex had been traveling together looking for Scott after their parents died in a plane crash. After they found the young boy, Raven had led Alex to Kurt and told him to bring him to Charles along with a letter. Charles reads the letter and is floored to learn Kurt is Raven’s son with Azazel. He vaguely remembers the man who was Shaw’s and then Erik’s crony. He remembers enough to know he’s dead. He doesn’t feel betrayal at Raven never telling him about his nephew because he’s kept the same secret. The letter has a return address, a PO box. He never wanted to tell her about the kids through a letter, but he writes down the most pertinent information, nothing that can be used against him should the letter fall into the wrong hands, but what is necessary for her to know. He ends it by telling her he will care for her son like he’s his and asks her to visit soon, if only to see Kurt.

He doesn’t expect a reply and he doesn’t get one.

Kurt is timid and barely speaks English. He learns Raven had left him in Russia with some relatives of Azazel’s, but Kurt has been without family since he was three. He’s been living with a travelling circus based in Munich, has been treated like a sideshow attraction. He is standoffish even though he understands that Charles is family and won’t hurt him. It takes a long while for him to warm up to people. Despite being in a house of mutants, some of them still stare due to the overtness of his mutation. Charles resolves to do what he didn’t with Raven and validate Kurt as much as he can without being overbearing. He doesn’t want him thinking he doesn’t accept him because of his blueness. It’s simple and quiet interactions that help Kurt relax into their new dynamic and accept Charles as his uncle.

David, as ever, is thrilled to expand the family. He welcomes Kurt with enthusiasm that scares the poor boy into hiding at times. Other times, it proves quite effective given that David is extremely protective of his younger cousin. Charles is forced to mediate more than once after David gets into literal duels with some of the other students (telekinetic ones thankfully, he’s yet to weaponize his telepathy but Charles isn’t holding out much hope that the day won’t come).

“It’s not my fault that some people are born stupid. That doesn’t change whether you’re a mutant or a human,” he would say unapologetically. Charles would just sigh in response, but a part of him is proud of his son for stepping up and defending others.

Kurt also soon becomes one of Peter’s little minions, being enlisted to cause chaos and pull pranks alongside the teen. However, Kurt is usually too sweet to not come to Charles and confess his wrongdoings almost immediately. Charles always lets him know he’s forgiven and that a little mischief won’t kill him, so long as he doesn’t tamper with Hank’s experiments that is. But chaos has become another new staple in Charles’ life with the increase in occupants at the mansion.

The school has not only seen an influx in students, but teachers as well, both mutant and human. Charles and Hank both teach science classes of varying difficulties for the students. Betsy and Alex act as trainers/PE teachers. Marya is a licensed math teacher. With the FBI ever looming, job-hunting is impossible, so he hires her to teach mathematics to the younger kids and trigonometry and calculus to the older ones.

He hunts down the old teachers he had when the school was open in the 60s. Now that the war is over, Miguel and Carson agree to come back. Carson goes back to helping to train while Miguel joins ranks with Marya as one of the few human teachers, teaching ELA and English Lit. There are two other human teachers. There is a woman named Tzipora Oladipo, a highly recommended, well-traveled history teacher specializing in culturally responsive teaching methods. She becomes the equivalent of his vice principal along with Hank. She helps Charles with building curriculum meant to suit as many students as possible, teacher training and teaches social studies to the younger kids and World History to the older ones. Her long, awarded career adds even more credibility to the school. There is also Jonathan Chan, husband of their Economics teacher Suzanne Chan. He teaches art and art history classes. Along with Suzanne and Jon, Cerebro helps him find Amelia Voght, who becomes their health teacher and their official school medic, Heather Tucker, who becomes a music teacher, and Bonita Juarez, who isn’t a mutant but has exceptional powers and becomes their Spanish teacher in exchange for asylum. The school is fuller and thriving more than it was before.

It is proof of his dream given life and the fact that he employs humans as well as mutants works well within the political sphere to argue against claims that he is trying to force a segregation between humans and mutants.

This is part of a turn he did not see coming. He never set out to get involved in the political realm per se. Politics have always had their place in his life, being a part of the upper crust as he is, but he never thought of himself as a politician. He still doesn’t, but the nature of his work and the publicity and status of his donors and supporters have put him in a position where oft times he must take the time to travel to DC to attend hearings, lobby for mutant rights and advocate for the children. It isn’t what he planned, but he does enjoy being able to present his case and facts to the people who will be making important decisions. He’s even managed to help ingratiate a coordinated response to the needs of mutant children into organizations such as the Children’s Defense Fund and other child advocacy groups. He’s helped to support adoption drives for mutant children and lends his presence to countless benefit galas and the like. The only downside is that he must leave David behind when he travels. Lorna and Magnus are young enough that taking them with him does not disturb their predetermined schedule, but he can’t just take David from school to travel back and forth with him.

They keep in touch via their telepathy. Charles is amazed at the range David has already that he can talk to Charles in DC from New York, but it gives David headaches to sustain it for long, so often they speak over the phone. Charles travels back and forth enough that he must hire an assistant/babysitter for the twins. His searching brings Emma Frost and Massachusetts Academy for Specialized Students or MASS, an offshoot school of the Massachusetts Academy, into his purview.

He was aware of a rival specialized school, a college preparatory academy for grades seven through twelve. He didn’t know Emma Frost was the headmistress of MASS until Hank pointed it out, but it’s of little consequence to him. His school has a slight edge over hers being that he offers classes for grade levels as low as 3rd grade, but Emma’s school has the benefit of being associated with a well-established and respected academy. Both of their family names help rake in donations and support and Emma has been becoming just as much of a politician as him. They encounter each other more than once on Capitol Hill and various balls and galas. Over time, they’ve developed a sort of comradery, bonding over their telepathy, their positions as headmaster, their politics, and parenthood. He hasn’t kept up with Emma over the past 10+ years, so he isn’t sure why he’s as surprised as he is to learn she’s a mother.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Charles says as they sit across from one another outside of a café in DC.

Magnus is in his stroller chomping on a teething ring while Lorna is settled in his lap fiddling with his keys. Metal has been becoming of more interest to her lately.

Emma had shown up to their meeting place a little late, the first time she was anything but punctual. Charles was beginning to think he was being stood up, but then she came striding around the corner, dressed as glamorous as ever, with a custom stroller in which five perfectly identical cherubic little girls were settled, all of them sharing Emma’s blue eyes and blonde hair and somehow, her aloof attitude too. She introduced them as Phoebe, Esme, Celeste, Mindee and Sophie.

“Please Charles, don’t be so backwards. Just because I’m a mother doesn’t mean I’m married. It doesn’t mean I was pregnant either. I wasn’t about to ruin my figure like that. Not all of us can bounce back as well as you seem to have. Who can say they’ve had three children and maintained the way you have even while being rendered partly immobile? But then, that’s what surrogates and money is for,” she replies, sipping her iced tea daintily.

Charles raises an eyebrow as Lorna starts babbling in the general direction of Emma's quintuplets. The five infants keep a disinterested air about them, and Lorna turns her attention to her brother.

“Lucky you. I can only imagine the poor woman who gave birth to five children at once.”

Emma quirks a smirk.

“Technically just the one, Phoebe, but her mutation is to multiply. Each of her multiples seem to have a personality of their own, so why not name them? They come and go as they please, but all five of my girls felt like a day on the town.”

“How old was she when she manifested?” Charles asks, shuffling through the folder of PA candidates Emma has slid over to him. Cecilia Reyes looked promising. She was medically trained and could use forcefields to protect the children. However, Danielle Moonstar had a plethora of relevant powers, including empathy, that could lend itself to childcare.

“A little over a year.”

“Was her father also a mutant?” He continues, looking up from the folder.

“Of course. If I was going to design my child, why not pick the best?”

Charles ignores that and begins thinking of the implications of when mutations express themselves versus whether there is any correlation between the parents’ status. Both his parents were baseline and he didn’t manifest until he was nine, but all of Erik’s children, with mutants, manifest much earlier. Wanda and Peter were only 6 and David was 2. Lorna already displays signs of her power, most likely metallokinesis though Betsy isn’t ruling telekinesis out yet. Emma’s child has manifested in infancy as well, and Kurt was teleporting nearly since birth.

“Kurt? Mystique’s Kurt? He’s with you? I would’ve thought she was standing firm on her decision to shuffle him off to Azazel’s relatives,” Emma comments.

“He came to me recently, or rather he was brought to me by a former student of mine. The family he was left with died and he ended up being a circus attraction. From what he says, they treated him well enough, but he hasn’t been in a safe place in a long while. He’s doing better now than he was when I first got him. He’s talking, learning English properly. He’s close to David. Peter seems to be a great help in getting him out of his shell as well. He’s made some friends with the other students. He likes spending time with me. He helps me out around the mansion, likes it when I read to him. He hasn’t asked about his parents yet though. Do you know why Raven sent him away? She said it was to protect him…” Charles trails off, gently replacing the cutlery Lorna's enthusiastic play has knocked askew.

Emma hums a little.

“Magneto didn’t want her and Azazel fraternizing, you know? At first, I thought he was jealous of the two, but he didn’t want there to be consequences like Kurt. Once she was pregnant, Magneto cut her off. He told her to stop playing rebel and go home to you. I believe his exact words were “this was never about the mutant cause for you, it was about your ceaseless and inane need to shove your independence in your brother’s face. Stop acting like you were a prisoner he held under duress and go back to the cushy life you belong to.” He said you’d welcome her back and she could raise the child properly, said a warzone was no place for a pregnant woman nor a newborn baby.”

Charles winces a little at that. And here he had been lamenting his poor word choices when Erik was hardly any better.

“I think his heart might have even been in the right place. I’m sure you of all people would know that Mystique took that as a challenge, especially after Azazel died. Then Magneto was captured, and she took it as proof that she was stronger than he thought she was, and her cause was bigger than motherhood. I felt the same way when I got away from Trask and founded my school, so I hold no judgement of her for that and neither should you.”

“I don’t. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about David before he was born, so I’m not judging her. I just wish these were things I could talk to her about in person. I wish she felt comfortable enough to come home.”

“I assume that isn’t the only conversation you wish to have with long-lost friends. Magneto. About the children, I presume?”

Charles’ eyes flicker back to Emma as she adjusts the bibs on the five babies by her side and hands each of them a dried mango to chew on.

“It’s quite hard to ignore the truth with you projecting the way you are, sugar. You had ample time to tell him and you didn’t, why stress about it now?”

“I have his children in my home and he is eerily quiet. I’m worried. It’s Erik. If he’s this quiet it either means he’s going to come back in a very loud and messy way, or…”

“What? You worry he’s dead? He’s a hard one to kill.”

“Yes, but not impossible.”

It’s been nagging at him. Even with all his success and his happiness with his family and the progress he’s making in regards to the cause for acceptance, Erik is ever present in the back of his mind. He hasn’t found him with Cerebro and hasn’t had the time recently to try to anyway. The last confirmation he has had that anyone saw him is when he went to Marya’s trying to recruit Peter, but the Brotherhood hasn’t struck and if they had, it was quietly and not widely reported about. Charles isn’t sure if he’s more worried about what Erik is going to do or if something has been done to him. Would Charles even know if he had been captured by the FBI once more? Probably not. They weren’t the only threat either. Erik had an uncanny ability to make enemies out of nearly anyone. He tells himself Erik wouldn’t allow himself to be captured, but that just means he’d kill indiscriminately or die in a blaze of glory to escape going into custody and neither of those things make him feel better. He feels like he’s getting more and more desperate by the day to hear anything about him. If he’s perfectly honest, it’s part of the reason he's struck up this acquaintance with Emma.

“Oh lord, your pining is as bad as his was back in the day. I thought I would never be subjected to it again and here I am,” Emma grouses across from him.

Charles shoots her a half-hearted glare. Emma sighs across from him, fiddling uncharacteristically with her napkin before addressing him.

“Look, sugar… when Erik wants to show his face, he will. Nothing and no one will force him to show up anywhere before he wants to. You’re missing him now, but once you see him again, I guarantee you’ll want to strangle him.”

“I don’t doubt that, but still. I’d like to get all this resolved and behind me. And… I hope there’s a place for him in what I’m building. I hope he can see now that there’s a way for progress without bloodshed. He’s inspired it enough, what with these rogue mutant terrorist groups sprouting up.”

“Well, at least the big wigs see us as the lesser of two evils when it comes to groups like the MLF. And to think, a little over ten years ago I would’ve been on a terrorist watchlist and now I'm practically domestic. I suppose there’s hope for even the most hopeless of cases. Now, enough talk of silly men. I do have a list of PAs qualified in childcare that you’d be interested in…”

He sits with Emma for a long while going over candidates until her brother, Christian, a glamorous man that looks like her male twin, shows up to whisk her and her daughters away. Christian is a good-looking man and queer if the way he looks at Charles and his vivid fantasies are anything to go by. Emma has suggested Charles and Christian should take advantage of a nightcap some time, but Charles doubts he’d be able to do it. He has slept with exactly two people besides Erik since 1962. Once was a lovely woman named Gabrielle he met at a bar in 1965. She was a beautiful woman, witty and smart. She didn’t mind his wheelchair, she saw him and not his disability. It was refreshing. He had wanted to prove to himself he could move on. He had always been good at sex, and that night was no exception, but it felt empty without any emotion behind the lust. That had been a shock. Before Erik, he never needed to feel anything for someone to enjoy sex. His telepathy allowed him to know someone better than anyone else could after one night, but it hadn’t happened then. He was angry to realize that Erik had ruined him for anyone else.

The second time had been another one-night stand in 1971. He ran into the father of one of David’s classmates at a club. In the right light, the man looked like Erik. He was married, but in the closet, and Charles hadn’t cared. He had just wanted to pretend. The man didn’t mind when he called him the wrong name and Charles didn’t care that the man didn’t see _him_ , only saw a willing hole in the right kind of body.

Charles is sober now and not looking for anymore one-night stands. Christian isn’t either. He’s a charming man. His thoughts, though sometimes vapid in the way of the rich and privileged, denoted a man with a kind but sharp nature. It wouldn’t be hard to strike up a relationship with him. But he wasn’t Erik and Charles didn’t want to string him along.

Emma shoots him a knowing look before she orders Christian to move the two strollers into her hired car so she can chauffeur Charles and the twins back to the relatively small DC home he has bought for his political excursions. Charles doesn’t fight her on it.

He elects to spend the day in with his children, seeing as how he isn’t due for another congress meeting until 1 pm tomorrow. He talks to Hank over the phone and Kurt transports himself and David to the house to spend a few hours with Charles. He praises Kurt on getting better at his accuracy, which causes the boy’s cheeks to turn purple. After dinner, he sends them back home with hugs, and lays the twins to rest in their cribs. He takes a shower and settles into bed just past ten o’clock with a book in his hand and a cup of tea at his side. He resolves to read until he drops off, but a heavy knock on his door interrupts him.

He stares at the door cautiously. No one has ever visited him here, largely because he has kept his address a secret besides to a select few. It’s too late for salesmen or anything of the like. The knock comes again, and he glances at the sleeping twins nervously before reaching out to see who it is. Instead of getting any impressions or thoughts, he is met with a cold void. A very familiar void. He stiffens in shock, his mind refusing to jump to the obvious conclusion. It can’t be, he must be imagining things, but then…

 _Charles?_ He hears in his head, and it’s him. It’s Erik.


	4. 1975 (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik’s arrival puts all of Charles previous resolve to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being way too long, so I split it in two. Next chapter will be the last chapter and, (hopefully), wrap everything up nicely. It will be up soon.

When Charles shakes from his shock enough to transfer himself to his wheelchair and open his front door, he isn’t sure what he expects, but it isn’t for Erik to all but collapse into his lap, his helmet rolling into the house past Charles’ wheelchair with a series of dull thuds. 

He is frozen for a moment, but once he gets over that, he smells the metallic tang of blood in the air. He manages to maneuver them inside and push Erik down flat on the wood floor. His eyes are open but glassy. He is sweating and pale. There are bruises on the left side of his face, and blood staining his dark shirt. Charles moves carefully to the floor beside him and captures Erik’s cheek in his hand.

“Erik, can you hear me?”

 _“Erik?”_ Charles projects, after he gets no answer.

The other man looks at him lazily.

_“Charles, I… I need help.”_

Even in his head, the words are sluggish and too faint.

 _“What happened? Tell me what’s wrong,”_ Charles replies, trying not to let on how panicked he is.

_“Was running… shot.”_

Charles lifts his shirt and sees blood spreading across his abdomen, but he can’t pinpoint exactly where it is coming from. He knows for sure he can’t take care of him here either way. He glances over to where the house phone is. It feels like there’s a mile between him and it, but Charles knows he needs to get to it or risk Erik dying. He won’t let that happen. He deftly transfers himself back into his wheelchair and punches in the personal number to the mansion once he reaches his landline. Hank picks up after three rings.

“Xavier Residence?”

“Hank, it’s Charles. I need Kurt to come back to the house.”

“Is something wrong,” Hank asks worriedly. 

Charles hesitates a second, already knowing Hank isn’t going to react well, but there’s nothing for it.

“Erik is here, he’s hurt. He needs medical attention. I need to bring him to Amelia.” 

Hank is quiet for a long while.

“Hank, please. I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it all. I don’t altogether disagree, but I don’t have time for this right now, Erik doesn’t have time. He’s bleeding out in my living room. Please, just get Kurt to come back and get us.” 

Hank lets out a longsuffering sigh.

“Fine,” he says abruptly before hanging up. 

Charles wheels back over to Erik, glancing at the twins as he passes the hallway leading to his bedroom. He can see Lorna is still asleep, but Magnus is awake, standing up in his crib and silently watching his father. Fathers. Charles can get faint impressions of curiosity from the baby but not much else. He lets a wave of reassurance sweep over the house. Lorna settles even further into sleep, and Magnus sits down in his crib but keeps his eyes on Charles while he deposits himself back on the floor next to Erik. He pulls the wounded man’s head in his lap and begins running his fingers through his auburn hair in an effort to comfort them both.

_“It’s alright. Help is coming. You’ll be fine.”_

Erik doesn’t respond. He just stares up at Charles with an unreadable expression. Charles isn’t sure how long it takes, but it feels like days have passed before Kurt finally appears in a haze of blue. He looks nervously at Charles and Erik, shuffling a little on his feet.

“Onkel,” Kurt addresses anxiously.

“Kurt, dear, can you transport the four of us at once?” 

Kurt’s anxiety spikes and Charles sends him a reassuring look.

“That’s okay. I need you to take this man straight to Amelia in the infirmary. You tell her he’s been shot.”

“Shot?”

“Yes, with a gun? Bullets?”

“Oh, schuss. Shot.”

“Yes.”

“Amelia?”

“Straight there.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt mumbles to himself, approaching Erik, who jerks away from him a little.

“It’s alright,” Charles says reassuringly.

 _“He’s bringing you to the manor for help,”_ he continues, leaning down to press a kiss to Erik’s forehead. 

He isn’t sure why he chooses such a forward action, but Erik relaxes and allows Kurt to take him away. 

A couple minutes later, Kurt appears again. Charles wheels over to the cribs and picks up Magnus, handing him to Kurt before picking up Lorna too. The blue boy takes a few deep breaths before transporting all of them as well. They materialize in the study. Kurt looks a little disappointed.

“I meant to go back to the infirmary.”

“No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t bring the twins down there,” he says, patting Kurt’s shoulder. 

He nods the boy to follow him so he can put the twins down and resolves not to go to the infirmary until Amelia tells him he can. He is suddenly extremely glad it’s nighttime, and David is likely asleep. He does not want to open this can of worms this late in the night.

“Kurt, dear?”

“Yes, Onkel?”

“Do me a favor and don’t mention anything about this to anyone. Erik is… his being here will make things complicated. Difficult, you see? I need time to figure things out.”

Kurt stares at him contemplatively for a moment.

“He is David’s vater, yes?” he questions after a while.

Charles nods in confirmation. A look of understanding overtakes Kurt’s face.

“I will say nothing, Onkel,” the boy swears.

Charles shoots him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

Kurt turns purple at the endearment before walking off. Charles sighs to himself, looking back into the babies’ cribs. Magnus looks like he is starting to drift now, his drowsy grey-green eyes still locked on Charles. It makes him think of that glassy, unclear look in Erik’s identical eyes, his mind drifting off and untethered thanks to blood loss.

It finally hits him. Erik is here. He is in the mansion with Charles and all the children. There is so much between all of them, and Erik is only aware of the bare minimum. Charles sighs to himself, wiping a tired hand over his face.

“What on Earth are we going to do now?”

**~*~*~**

Charles doesn’t get much sleep that night.

Amelia comes to him eventually and informs him Erik’s been shot twice. She had to remove one of the bullets, but she’s stitched him up and put him on painkillers. He’ll probably sleep for a while, but she’ll keep an eye on him.

Now that Erik is largely out of the woods and on his way to recovery, Charles’ mind races thinking about where Erik’s been and what he’s been doing, how he got shot. He doesn’t know how Erik found him, how he knew Charles was in DC and had a house there. Had he been following him? Was he still secretly in contact with Emma? Had he seen Raven recently?

Once Erik is awake, they’ll have to talk about… well, everything. The children most of all. Charles has long resolved to tell him the truth, but he never quite got around to thinking about how he would tell him. He can’t even think of the words to say in his own head, how the hell is he going to tell Erik? He doesn’t think any words will suffice to him. He can show him, but somehow he doesn’t think Erik will be particularly receptive to Charles entering his head in any deep and meaningful way after everything that’s happened. Charles isn’t sure he wants to plunge beyond the surface, too afraid of what he’ll find or won’t find as it were.

And then there are the children’s reactions. While Lorna and Magnus aren’t a concern, thanks to their youth, David is another story. Charles cannot, with all certainty, say how David will react to Erik being here. Even though Erik-adjacent topics have been back on the table ever since the Maximoffs moved into the manor, there is still an embargo on all conversations centered on Erik.

Peter will probably be okay, though Charles has the distinct impression that the teen longs for a biological parent, specifically a father, more than he’d ever admit. He doesn’t know how Erik will measure to the speedster’s expectations, or what those expectations even are. He hopes Peter isn’t setting himself up for a hard fall. Wanda is harder to gauge. She doesn’t talk much about Erik. Her interaction with him is limited to that one night when he showed up to the Maximoffs trying to recruit Peter and she stumbled on the scene of Erik, Peter and Marya fighting off FBI agents. Charles later learned Erik didn’t know who Peter was when he showed up. Marya told Erik the truth and Erik sent them to Charles. Wanda claims indifference to it all. Charles doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but she certainly doesn’t have the vitriol towards him that she does her mother. Peter and Wanda are 17 and don’t appear to really need Erik on the surface. They’re about ready to begin their lives as adults, but Charles hopes there may be a place for this relationship too.

Lorna and Magnus are young enough that Erik can insert himself in their lives now. In a few months, to them, it’ll be like he was always there. David has frequently formed and reformed his opinion on Erik, and it’s mainly middling to negative. Charles can’t help but feel guilty about it once more. He’s tried everything he can to mediate that situation without Erik being present, but now it’s well and truly out of his hands.

He rolls over in his bed, fixing his legs to a more comfortable position. He’s thinking too hard about this. There is nothing he can do now but face the music. It won’t be easy. Erik will be angry. Charles will probably get angry as well. David will definitely be angry. He needs to conserve his energy for the inevitable confrontation, not worrying.

The thought proves easier said than done.

**~*~*~**

After a fitful night, Charles wakes up at six AM the next morning. He would love to go back to sleep, but he knows he can’t afford to. He’s meant to be at a congressional meeting at 1 PM, better to make his arrangements now than to dally.

He telepathically peruses the manor. Most everyone is asleep except for a few people. Amelia and Hank are in the lab. Rick, a student who has an immunity to sleep, is in the TV room. Erik is awake too. Charles feels the lightest brush of the older man’s mind against his and focuses on it unconsciously. It’s been two years since he was in Erik’s mind, and even then, he didn’t revel in it, didn’t delve or explore to see what was different and he doesn’t do so now either. He remains on the surface, just skimming to gauge how the other man is. He is still groggy from the sedatives and will likely be back to sleep soon. His mind isn’t even forming coherent thoughts yet, just general impressions of apprehension, confusion, and of course pain and anger, because those two things are never far from his mind. But this is physical pain. Amelia had already given him pain medication that would help him sleep. Erik, being Erik, is stubbornly fighting it. Charles sighs to himself.

 _“Sleep, my friend. Let slumber bring you to a place absent this pain. The mess will remain when you awaken,”_ Charles projects soothingly.

Erik’s mind jolts, a bit of life jarred back into it.

 _“Charles? Charles. Charles,”_ Erik thinks and nothing else, just a repetition of Charles’ name over and over. It’s overwhelming and disconcerting.

_“Calm your mind, Erik. Go to sleep.”_

_“Charles. Charles. Where are you? Come to me.”_

Charles is tempted, but it’s not the right time. There are other things, people, he must attend first.

_“In time. You must rest now. You won’t heal otherwise. I’ll be here when you wake again. Sleep.”_

Erik falls silent. Charles keeps tethered to him as his mind slows and eventually quiets with drug-induced slumber. Only then does Charles pull away and project a request to all the teachers along with Django to meet him in his study in half an hour for an early morning meeting. He owes them an explanation and a choice as well. He brought them here, offered them protection and safety. Erik could threaten that. Charles won’t abandon him, but this school is not solely his to do what he wants with. They aren’t just employees. They are investors and shareholders in all Xavier enterprises. Beyond that, they are residents and friends and they have a say in Erik remaining here. Not everyone knows everything. He would never jeopardize his children just for the sake of transparency. Marya, Django, Hank, Alex and Betsy know about David and the twins’ parentage. Beyond them, only Carson and Miguel know about his sexual predilections. He only revealed himself to them to help convince them to join his staff, but he didn’t plan to divulge that information to everyone. He must be upfront about the danger Erik could pose regardless. There are other places Charles can house him if they decide he shouldn’t be here.

Alex is as angry as Charles suspects Hank is, the scientist is just better at hiding it. It seems to have more to do with what Erik did in DC than it does their sexual orientation this time around. Charles doesn’t bother digging around to see what brought this change on. Carson and Suzanne air concerns about the school’s security harboring someone with a rap sheet like Erik’s. Charles is quick to disabuse them of any notions that he assassinated the president, but they remain reserved. Heather and Amelia, who Charles suspects identify much more with the Brotherhood’s ideology than they ever will with Charles’, believes it’s their duty to help a fellow mutant, personal history aside. Django also, unsurprisingly, supports letting Erik stay. Tzipora remains largely neutral about it as long as it doesn’t disrupt classes. Jonathan and Miguel also remain neutral so long as cordiality is maintained given Erik’s stance on humans and Jon and Miguel’s status as such. Bonita, also living at the mansion under asylum, is empathetic to Erik’s situation. She doesn’t feel it her place to pass judgment.

Charles promises Erik will stay out of the students’ wings and away from the teachers’ living space as well. He will remain confined to the infirmary for now and if anything, he’ll be housed in the family living quarters where Charles, his children, Kurt and the Maximoffs reside. Marya and Betsy don’t say anything for the whole meeting. Charles can feel quiet concern wafting from them, but they don’t voice the origins of the emotion.

When it finally comes to the vote, the two women elect to let Erik stay, joining the majority vote of 8-4. Alex storms off while Hank follows him at a sedate speed. As the others trickle out, Betsy and Marya approach him.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Betsy asks without preamble. She allows him to peek into her head to see her concerns. She doesn’t want him to be put in a bad way again if this thing with Erik, whatever it is, explodes in his face.

“That won’t happen again. I can handle this. I will be fine no matter how this goes, I promise,” he reassures her.

Betsy holds his gaze before nodding curtly and leaving him with Marya.

“So, he’s here,” she states needlessly. Charles nods anyway.

“I’m going to talk with David right after this. Do you want to bring Wanda and Peter to his room, or would you rather talk to them alone?”

“I think this is a conversation Django and I should tackle ourselves, but if you need help with David…”

“I can handle it.”

Marya nods and stands silently for a moment.

“How is he?” She asks. Charles sighs.

“He was awake this morning. Amelia says he’s stable, that he’ll recover. I suppose I can ask him what happened then.”

“You’re going to tell him the truth?”

Charles nods.

“I am, sooner rather than later.”

“Good luck. You’ll need it if his reaction when I told him about Wanda and Peter is anything to go by. Maybe take all the metal out of the room if you can.”

Charles chuckles half-heartedly and squeezes Marya’s hand before wheeling his way to David’s room.

David is still asleep when Charles wheels into his room, but he can feel that it isn’t deep. He’ll probably wake in a few minutes. He approaches the bed and looks down at his son. Sometimes it’s hard for him to believe that his boy is twelve years old. It feels like no time at all since he was just a baby, utterly dependent on Charles for everything, innocent to any of the flaws his fathers had. David understands more about the world than Charles wants him to, childish naivety taken from him thanks to Charles’ subpar parenting skills. He thinks he managed to salvage more from the mess he’d made than many would’ve believed possible, but he can’t recreate that bubble of unworldliness. Now he is getting ready to throw Erik at him too. _Erik_ , of all people.

Is this a mistake? Should he even bother telling Erik the truth? Maybe David is right, maybe Erik will come back and prove to be a destructive presence. Maybe he’ll ruin everything Charles has built, or Charles will tear his life asunder in his weakness over Erik. But it isn’t fair of him to keep this secret either. It’s not just David anymore. He doesn’t want to raise Lorna and Magnus with the same lies and losses he raised their older brother with. Plus, David isn’t an infant, he should have a choice and Erik…

Erik was in jail for nine years, wasting away, all but forgotten. Charles abandoned him just as surely as Erik had done the same to him on that beach. Hindsight being 20/20, the guilt of leaving him to rot for a crime he didn’t commit is a heavier burden to carry than Charles feels comfortable articulating. He turned his back on Erik out of fear of being hurt. All the while Erik, for once, seemed to have been trying to do the right thing. If Charles had told him about David back then, maybe he never would’ve been arrested, maybe he would’ve stayed. But then Lorna and Magnus wouldn’t have been born. Or maybe nothing would’ve changed. He doesn’t know. He’s thinking himself in circles. Some days, he wonders why he should bother telling Erik the truth. Other days, he feels guilty about Erik losing twelve years with David. Now, here he is. The moment is upon him and he has no idea if the truth will fix anything.

David shifts in his bed, groaning a little as he stretches. He blinks his eyes open and immediately looks at Charles.

“Papa? What are you doing back so early,” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes.

Charles gives him a smile.

“Something came up and I needed to come back. I need to talk to you about it actually,” he replies, running a hand through the boy’s messy brunette locks.

‘“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, per se.”

David frowns as he sits up, looking at Charles inquiringly. He takes a deep breath to steel himself.

“Last night, back at the house in DC, Erik came.”

David’s eyes widen at that.

“He was hurt. He needed medical attention, so he’s in the infirmary right now.”

David’s eyes get even wider.

“Wait, he’s _here_?”

Charles nods silently.

“But…” David trails off. His mind is giving off impressions of shock and anger and something else, something small, but it doesn’t feel negative. Charles doesn’t dig to see what it is.

“I… I’m planning to tell him the truth.”

David sits up straighter.

“I’m going to tell him everything: about you, about the babies. I think it’s time for everyone to know the truth. It’s been hanging over us for too long. I don’t think we need to be afraid of what-ifs anymore. We should face this. Then we can reorient ourselves once everyone is on the same page, even if not the same sentence,” Charles says gently, trying to remain as soothing and reassuring as possible.

“You can’t trust him!”

“He may have his faults, but I don’t believe he would hurt you or the babies.”

“He hurt _you_!”

“And that’s between him and me. David, you’re young, but you’re not a baby. I’m not going to treat you like you’re Lorna or Magnus. You’re old enough and smart enough to understand what I’m telling you. This situation, this... mess really, is partly my doing. You know full well I have my flaws. They existed long before Erik entered my life and made themselves known long after. And you suffered for them.”

David looks down at that, biting his lip.

“I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be mad but be mad for the right reasons. I fell apart after Erik left because I let myself. I can’t blame ten years of willful and blatant neglect and failings on one man, one relationship. There should’ve been something inside of me to make me strong enough to weather it. I should’ve been driven for you, and I wasn’t. That is on me. Hate me for that, not him. That is not to say he is without fault, but you’ve seen in my head what he’s been through. I wager if you peeked in his, you’d be more inclined to understand why he is the way he is,” Charles says before reaching out to tip David’s head up so their eyes meet.

“The point is... I know I haven’t been easy to deal with over the years. The fact is I’ve put you in positions I had no business or right to. I know that’s shaken the faith you have in me and my judgment. I can’t be angry at you about that, but what I need from you right now is for you to trust me.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve always trusted you.”

Charles shoots the boy a sad smile.

“No, you haven’t. I can’t blame you for that. I gave you plenty of reasons to mistrust me. You’ve always loved me, even though I couldn’t fathom why, but you haven’t always trusted me. Truthfully, you’d be well within your rights to hate me.”

“I don’t _hate_ you, Papa. I don’t even hate... I just…”

He watches David’s face as he goes through a series of emotions so fast Charles can’t catch them all until something else begins creeping in. It’s slow and insidious, growing little by little until Charles can identify it as sadness and hurt. A phantom pressure builds behind Charles’ eyes. He watches slightly mystified and concerned as David’s face crumples.

“David?”

The boy presses his face into his pillow and lets out a small sob. He sighs as he shifts himself from his wheelchair to the edge of the bed. He presses a hand to his back, rubbing comforting circles.

“Talk to me, please. What is it,” he asked after about a minute of David shaking under his touch. He turns his face a little so Charles can see him, red and tearstained as he is. He wipes his cheeks with gentle fingers and waits patiently for an answer.

“I… what if… I don’t want him to hurt you again. I don’t want him to hurt the babies or the twins… or me.”

“David…”

“I don’t hate him, not really. I’m just... I’m mad. He left us. You and me, Wanda and Peter, Lorna and Magnus. He left us all. Then he just shows back up when he needs help. Once he’s better, he’ll probably leave us again. What’s the point in telling him anything?”

“He didn’t know about you, about any of you. If he did, I bet he would’ve stayed for you.”

David gives him a long searching look.

“Do you really believe that?”

His voice is doubtful but hopeful. Charles is surprised. He’s never gotten to talk at great length with David about Erik after he told him about the twins, but he is still shocked that there is a part of David that longs for him, wishes to know that he is accepted and wanted and loved by Erik. Charles doesn’t know if even David knew this thing inside of him existed before today. From the look on his face and the tinge to his thoughts, he would wager not.

“I do believe that. I’ve never doubted that Erik would love you. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, but just... just trust me to handle this. And if it’s possible, maybe give him a chance to try. You never know, you might like him more than you like me,” Charles finishes at an attempt for levity.

David gives him a wan smile for the effort.

“Not likely.”

Charles shoots him a warm smile and pulls him in for a hug.

“I love you, my darling. Never doubt or forget that.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

Charles holds his son for a long moment, savoring the weight of him in his arms, the last time he’ll have him just for himself, before he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls away.

“I’ll think about it. Giving Erik a chance.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Charles presses another kiss to his forehead before maneuvering to his wheelchair.

“Get dressed and brush your teeth. I’m going to go get Kurt and the twins up for breakfast and then I’ll drop you off at school before I go back to Washington.”

“Can we take the Monte Carlo instead of the Hatchback?” David asks, looking at him with pleading eyes. Charles acquiesces with a nod.

He recently invested in buying a car that could be fully operated by hand. He isn’t going to allow himself to act as if his disability is the end of the world. Dropping David off at school and picking him up is one of the only consistent things he’s done with his son over the years and he isn’t going to let his wheelchair stop him. He could’ve hired a driver like Emma, but he still wanted that moment for the two of them alone. Besides, what is his money for if he isn’t going to use it to the benefit of himself and his children? He’s invested in several private companies that specialize in advancing adaptive technology, especially in accessible cars that don’t boast a dubious safety record or sense of style. One shouldn’t have to trade flair or security for function just because their daily routines hit a few handicaps. He had his Monte Carlo modified for accessibility but needed something more child-friendly for the babies. His 1975 Honda Civic Hatchback was modified to be longer to fit his wheelchair in the back and the backseats were revamped with infants in mind. David preferred the sleeker Monte to the more utilitarian Hatchback.

“Will you be back before I leave school,” David inquires, getting out of bed and walking towards the bathroom.

“I should be. If not, then I won’t be gone for too much longer after that.”

David nods before disappearing. Charles heaves a long breath, running a hand through his hair. That talk went way better than he thought it would. He certainly wasn’t out of the woods yet. He still had to tell Erik, and then David and Erik had to meet one another. Both of those events were metaphorical hills he may not be able to climb.

Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He should take this all a minute at a time he decides as he wheels out of the room. There is no point in stressing himself out before he needs to. He’s certain this congressional meeting will do that well enough.

**~*~*~**

Charles finds it hard to concentrate through the congressional meeting.

It’s a small meeting, only half the senators deigning to attend. He supposes he shouldn’t have expected any differently. Half of the senators on Capitol Hill are openly racist and/or mutantphobic. They don’t care about the disparity of minority and mutant children placed in special education programs when they don’t need to be. Charles is hopeful that the turnout is as large as it is. 65% of the Senate is not something to be easily dismissed. It is enough to make up a majority vote when it comes down to it, that is if Charles can convince them. That’s hard to do when he’s worrying about how things are back at home. What if Erik has woken up? What if someone says something to him before Charles can? What if Alex has gone to the infirmary spoiling for a fight? Erik, even in his weakened state, would meet the challenge. Charles would rather not return to find his school and home a smoldering ruin. He tries to assure himself that Hank, Betsy and Tzipora would not allow the school to fall to such disarray in his absence and distract himself with what he is meant to be focusing on but it’s difficult to do.

He manages to argue his points, though not as fiery as he usually is. Emma notices. He would be kidding himself if he thought she wouldn’t. She waves him into her Lincoln Continental wordlessly once they leave the senatorial chambers. He doesn’t bother protesting. They are quiet for a little while, not even bothering for small talk, before Charles cannot stand the unspoken words hanging between them.

“Did you know,” he asks quietly.

“Be specific, sugar.”

“Erik.”

Emma looks at him blankly.

“He went to you then.”

“If you mean did he show up on my doorstep bleeding out, then yes.”

Emma looks slightly startled by that before rolling her eyes.

“That man, forever trying to have his cake and eat it too. He dropped by my school months ago looking to start up the old Brotherhood. I shot him down and then I knocked him out and imprisoned him in my penthouse in Boston.”

Charles looks at her, alarmed. She says it as casual as she would if she were commenting on the weather.

“I say imprisoned, but he wasn’t exactly confined. It was _my_ penthouse; it wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination. He had full reign of the place and access to his powers and everything he needed to know to catch up to the 70s. I just made it so he couldn’t leave, and no one could find him.”

“The helmet,” Charles asks, realization donning on him.

“He requisitioned that on his own, but who do you think helped Sebastian make the damned thing? I’ve embedded the metal into my home to ensure no other telepaths try to pry into my private affairs. It was meant to protect my girls, but it shielded him just fine.”

“To what end?”

Emma looks over at Charles silently for a long moment.

“I’ve spent a long time playing lacky. My entire life really. First my father and then Shaw and then Magneto. All that time only ever serving someone else’s agenda, only ever being their tool, their trump card, only around because I was useful for my body or my manners or my powers. Where did that leave me? Then Trask…” Emma trails off, a flash of fear alighting her face. Charles never pushed to learn how she had escaped Trask with her life, never asked what she had seen there, but if he has ever doubted that it had shaken her to her very core, those doubts are now far away.

Emma takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It took longer than I would care to admit before I became someone that I could claim was well and truly independent, someone that is an authentic me. I finally have things in my life that I care about, things that are irreplaceable: my school, my daughter, my brother. I’m sure you can understand that. Do you think I would allow Magneto to swan in ten years after getting himself arrested by the FBI and jeopardize that? Do you think I’ve spent all these years building my brand and reputation for the moment mutants step out onto the world stage to have Erik fucking Lehnsherr destroy everything with his theatrics and grandstanding? No, Charles. He was a problem, one you let fly off into the sunset to endanger us another day, so I handled it.”

Emma holds his eyes for a long moment before she flicks her hair back and slips her sunglasses onto her face.

“Honestly, you deserve a sainthood for putting up with him as long as you have. I very nearly murdered him more than once. I handled him with as much finesse and patience as anyone could hope to and he returned to you in relatively one piece.”

Charles hides a smile, turning his gaze to the window.

“He does have a certain charm to him if he sticks around long enough, not that he ever does.”

Emma allows a snort that somehow manages to sound delicate and ladylike.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing but the world at large would disagree.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against them, trust me.”

“The problem with your man is that, for all his suave worldliness, he is a slow learner. He is intractable. He believes bending is breaking. I know you’re more of an expert in getting him to bend than I ever will be,”

Charles chokes a little at that,

“But, as one of the mutants he claims to be speaking for, I felt well within my rights to lock him up and pound as much logic and better judgement into his stubborn head as possible,” Emma continues as if Charles hasn’t made a sound.

Charles glances over at Emma with a wide-eyed look. She maintains a look of innocence for a moment before a slight pull of her lips causes Charles to release the chuckle he’s been holding back. Emma’s tinkering giggles join his for a moment before the two of them sober up.

“I needed that laugh,” Charles admits after a moment.

“I’m going to tell Erik the truth about the children. David’s reaction when I told him wasn’t what I expected it to be.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“In a good way, funnily enough. I think… I didn’t realize that he wanted Erik in his life. He always said he hated him, or… well, he never said, he always thought it. I don’t know, maybe having Wanda and Peter around have changed his mind in some ways. He’s always wanted more family than just me and Hank. He wanted siblings, he wanted two stable parents and aunts and uncles and cousins. He’s gotten all of it besides Erik. I think the idea of him has been too scary to contemplate. Erik, even in his absence, has been a tempestuous specter in his life at best. I don’t know if the truth will mitigate that or make it worse.”

Emma hums, taking a moment to think.

“I told you I locked him up in my penthouse in Boston, but I didn’t tell you what happened after that.”

Charles looks over at her curiously.

“I made him travel with me for a bit, back and forth to DC and my school. I made him see what my school was, what life for mutant children was now that we were out in the world, what integration could be. Certainly, things aren’t peachy keen, but no one is eager to hop into another war after Vietnam. I tried to show him that rebellion doesn’t just come from violence. After a while, I decided I wasn’t going to keep knocking his head against a brick wall. Either he would see that there are ways to effect change for mutants sans dropping baseball stadiums out of the sky or he won’t. He followed me around for a bit after I released my telepathic hold on him. I don’t know why. That’s how he found out you were in DC frequently; I didn’t make a secret of it. He spied on us at a few of our lunches. He saw Lorna and Magnus.”

Charles looks at her with alarm.

“I didn’t tell him anything. Eventually, he told me about someone he wanted to investigate, said they might have had ties to Trask Industries, and they were laying low in DC. He could’ve gone after them, killed them and been done with it. He stalled, used investigating this guy as an excuse so he could tell himself he had a reason for following me to DC, even though he was free to go anywhere he wanted. He didn’t come here for me and it wasn’t for some potential low-level Trask employee. He wanted to see you. But God forbid he admit that. He hasn’t changed in that regard, unfortunately for my sanity.”

Charles looks away, unsure what he felt at that statement, but his heart was skipping a little in his chest.

“I told him to make up his mind and stop hanging around me, taking up my space, breathing my daughter’s air when he didn’t need to be. Either he’s going to be Magneto and he can go after his vengeance and only that, or he can try to figure out how to be Erik Lehnsherr again after losing ten years of his life. Erik being Erik can never just make a choice, can he? It’s always got to be all or nothing: friend or foe, us or them, right or wrong. I think he’s closer to accepting that there might be another way than just his own. I also think he’s so mulish that he’ll try to beat back any idea that he could be swayed to inaction, and thus weakness, by the likes of me. Maybe you’ll be able to hit the nail in the coffin and get him to settle down, do something actually productive for mutantkind, more substantive than just playing the villain for the politicians. We already have those positions filled quite nicely.”

Emma lets a small breath out.

“I’m only saying this because it’s miserable being around you two whilst you’re pining over the other. However, if there is a chance at all for the two of you, now would be the time. Don’t waste it. Be patient, be willing to listen, be willing to be angry and hurt and to anger and hurt him. Make your children the priority but allow yourself to consider what your personal future will be and how that will affect the future of not just your family and your school, but mutantkind as a whole.”

Charles nods in response to the advice, cataloging her words for further examination later.

“For what it’s worth, thanks for trying with him. I’m glad he’s at least been relatively safe with you while he’s been gone.”

Emma shrugs lightly.

“It was hardly a selfless endeavor, but you’re welcome,” she replies as the Lincoln Continental pulls up to his house. Emma’s driver exits the car to grab his wheelchair from the boot while Charles secures his blazer.

“Good luck,” Emma says as the car door opens. Charles squeezes her hand in thanks before transferring to the wheelchair and wheeling up to his house.

He doesn’t spend much time settling. He takes a breath, thinks of Erik forced to see a different way by Emma. Emma is not as peace oriented as Charles, but she isn’t a fiery separatist either. She sees the merits of integration while also believing in mutant superiority. She also believes in personal superiority and values herself, and things that are extensions of herself, more than any political discourse i.e., her brother, her daughter, her school. Charles can respect that, and perhaps even agree to an extent. He doesn’t think he’ll ever convince Erik to believe mutants and humans are the same, but maybe he’ll get him to rethink his M.O. and where the line between political and personal should blur and where it shouldn’t now that he’s seen Emma’s way. If Emma can make him question things, then Charles hopes he and the children can too.

That is critical, Charles realizes, because there is Magnus. Charles knows, knows to his very core, that Magnus is baseline. Maybe the knowledge is related to his telepathy, maybe it is a tertiary mutation, maybe it’s just a side-effect from overuse of Cerebro, but he can tell just looking at him. It’s a thrumming awareness in the back of his mind. How will that work: a human child and a father who despises humans? Will Erik make an exception or be willing to open his mind? Will Magnus grow up knowing that his father hates what he is, sees him as inferior? Charles felt that way growing up with his stepfather, he would never want that for his son. If Erik can’t accept Magnus, then Charles doesn’t need Erik in his life and his children don’t either. That is a moot point at the moment. He still must actually tell Erik.

He wheels to the phone to call Kurt to transport him home. He glances at the clock as he passes. It is 3:36, David should be home by now. He waits patiently for Kurt to arrive after his phone call with Betsy. Charles can tell something is wrong immediately when the blue sulfuric haze disappears and leaves his sheepish nephew, not meeting his eyes and rocking nervously on his heels.

“Kurt, what is it?”

Betsy had sounded normal on the phone, but then again, it’s Betsy. Nothing phases her.

“I… It’s…”

“Kurt?”

“David’s vater woke,” Kurt informs him quietly. Charles feels his heart pick up pace a bit.

“Okay, and?”

“And… and David…” Kurt trails off, making vague gestures towards his head, but Charles understands perfectly. He lets out a puff of air involuntarily. Why could David never just listen to him when he tells him to curb his telepathy and not invade others’ privacy? The boy flips out if someone enters his room without knocking but lets loose his telepathy with barely a second thought.

“They have been talking for a while now in—”

“Hold on, they’ve been _talking_?”

Kurt nods silently. Charles’ heart plummets to his shoes.

“Get me home, dear. Quick as you can.”

Kurt nods and grabs his shoulder. Charles tries not to let what he’s going home to override his senses, but it is hard. Erik and David together without Charles there. David in Erik’s head, allowed to sift through and see anything. And what about the babies, and the Maximoffs, for that matter?

Charles takes a deep breath just as Kurt teleports them.

 _This is what I wanted,_ he reminds himself.

Right about now, it seems like a pretty foolish wish.


	5. 1975 (pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions and reconciliations are made.

Charles and Kurt arrive at the mansion in a haze of blue and sulfur, materializing in Charles’ study. Kurt looks slightly disappointed.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take the elevator to the infirmary.”

“They aren’t there. They were in David’s room last I saw.” 

Charles looks at him, startled. Kurt shrugs a little and shuffles in place. The older man thanks him, letting the anxious boy go. Kurt hates confrontations. Charles wheels to the elevator to go up to his son’s room. He greets a few students on the way. They all seem none-the-wiser. Bonita and Carson welcome him back too. There is nothing he can glean from a cursory glance of their minds to suggest anything untoward, but he is still cautious. He braces himself in the lift while he waits to arrive at his floor. He’s expecting property damage at the least, loud voices maybe, arguments, something that requires damage control.

When the elevator dings open, he is met with silence. Everything in the hallway seems to be intact and unbroken, nothing is out of place. He opens the mental link he has to his children. Magnus and Lorna are amused about something, content, and happy. David is nervous, hopeful, and cautious.

 _“Papa?”_ David says anxiously.

 _“Yes, I’m back.”_

Charles doesn’t allow any emotional inflection into his thoughts. He is upset but doesn’t want David to know.

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You said if I looked in his head, I would understand. And I found him wandering by your bedroom and I didn’t think, I just... did it.”_

Charles sees a flash of David’s memory: David stumbling across Erik outside Charles’ room, the overwhelming emotion he felt when Erik turned to look at him, the mindless use of his telepathy. David had latched on to Erik’s mind and sifted through memories so fast that he couldn’t even comprehend it all. It left him sobbing on the floor. Erik had been angry about the psionic invasion but had comforted the distraught child, and then David told him the truth about everything. It was cowardly of him, but Charles did not look to see what Erik’s reaction was. 

_“Are you mad at me?”_ David asks.

_“I’m not mad at you. Where are you?”_

_“We’re in the playroom.”_

Charles sighs to himself but accepts that this is happening now. There is no point in delaying it. As he wheels closer to the playroom, he can hear Lorna’s giggles and the deeper rumble of a man’s voice: Erik. His wheelchair shakes ominously once he is halfway down the corridor. The door opens down the hall, and Erik steps out. The falling sun in the window behind him halos his auburn hair, and half eclipses his face, but Charles doesn’t need to see him to feel the anger radiating off him. He is holding Lorna in one of his arms, the baby playing with a set of metal keys, the other arm is draped over David’s shoulder where the boy stands next to him holding Magnus, an aura of guilt permeating his thoughts. Charles looks between the four of them, not sure what to say. The standoff lasts for a few uncomfortable seconds until Lorna, having noticed Charles’ presence, lets out a loud squeal.

“Papa,” she exclaims in her bell-like voice.

Magnus, always the quieter of the two, looks at him and gives him a big grin, reaching out towards him. Charles shakes himself and smiles back at the babies, approaching the group. He takes Magnus in his left arm and Lorna in his right, his fingers brushing Erik’s as they make the transfer. He meets the other man’s eyes. His face is carefully blank. If Charles didn’t have his telepathy, he wouldn’t feel the rage, nor the distant longing in the back of his mind. David winces a little beside him. He immediately erects a shield between David and Erik’s thoughts. David shouldn’t have been snooping anyway. The boy winces once more but doesn’t call foul on his father’s actions.

 _“I’m sorry, Papa,”_ David projects.

Charles sends him a wave of reassurance. He is upset, but he isn’t angry at David. He’s still in too much shock to really use his words right now though.

Lorna squirms on his lap, reaching back out towards Erik. The two men’s eyes meet once more. Erik raises his brow at him, not so much a question as it is a challenge as he takes Lorna back, the little girl cuddling into his hold and shaking the keys in her grip in front of Erik’s face. The bundle lifts into the air, dancing before Lorna’s eyes. She giggles brightly, her eyes alight with joy and mirth. He can feel a small wave of power from her, struggling to effect a change in the keys. It’s still underdeveloped, negligible, he can’t tell what it is yet. He expects she’ll manifest in a few months if not weeks. A small smile crosses Erik’s lips at Lorna’s amusement. He spares Charles one more glance, his eyes lingering on Magnus before he walks back into the playroom, steering David alongside him.

Charles watches him go, not quite sure how to take it. Was that a rejection of him and or Magnus? Does he know Magnus is baseline? David might’ve mentioned something.

 _“Are you coming in or not? You’ve kept my son from me long enough, don’t you think,”_ he hears, breaking through his thoughts. 

He glances at the playroom door and wheels in cautiously. Erik is seated on the floor with Lorna playing with the keys. David is levitating some of the books in a circle in the middle of the room. He lets them fall into an orderly pile and then looks to Erik, seemingly for approval. Erik graces him with a smile.

“Well done. Your control is better than mine was at your age.”

David subtly preens at the praise. It makes Charles’ heartache and his stomach clench. Magnus, who has always been reluctant around strangers, looks between Charles and Erik for a few moments before pointing at the German man. Charles lets him down to crawl over to the rest of the occupants, but he looks up at his father only halfway to them. He sighs, wheels closer, and then eases himself to the floor next to David, letting Magnus crawl to him.

He’s not sure how long they spend in the playroom. He feels like he’s entered the twilight zone. David and Erik talk civilly to one another. Erik asks David questions about himself, and David offers answers and anecdotes before they reverse roles. They keep Lorna and Magnus entertained. The babies get a kick out of Erik’s powers, Lorna especially. All the while, Charles silently stews in befuddlement, feeling the tension between him and Erik hanging in the air, ratcheting up the longer they sit in this room with their children and leave the unspoken words to float in the ether.

Eventually, Charles hears Betsy’s dinner call projected into his head. He meets Erik’s eyes over the children’s heads. He doesn’t need to read his mind to see his intentions.

“David, darling, why don’t you take the twins down to the dining room? Ask Betsy to portion their dinner if I’m not down in ten minutes. Erik and I need to talk.”

David looks between the two of them before nodding wordlessly. Charles watches him walk out, a baby on each hip. He listens as his steps get farther away and then turns to Erik. He holds a finger up and pauses for a few long seconds.

“He’s gone into the elevator now,” Charles informs him. Erik looks at him with blazing eyes before he stands up and begins pacing the room. Charles transfers himself to his wheelchair in the interim and watches the man’s movements. For a moment, he wonders if he’s not better off on the floor when several metal items in the room begin rattling dangerously. His wheelchair remains unaffected by Erik’s power, so he figures Erik is still somewhat in control. Suddenly, the man rounds on him, his face a mask of pure rage.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes, I was.”

Erik scoffs in response.

“Really? It’s been twelve years. Twelve years and I only now find out I’m a father.”

“I—” 

“Twelve years and three children. Five, really, counting Wanda and Peter. One would think finding out they had children they never knew about would be a one-time occurrence, and yet here we are. Natalya, I can see doing this, but you? Putting aside the fact that I didn’t even know it was possible we could have children, I never thought you’d stoop so low. You had no right. You took my children from me, you lied to me.”

Charles narrows his eyes.

“I didn’t _take_ them from you.”

“Oh, didn’t you? Twelve years! You can’t use the excuse of prison for this, they were all born when I was still free. You chose to keep them from me.”

“That’s not—” 

“You had ample opportunity to tell me the truth.”

“I couldn’t get in contact with you. You made sure of that.”

“Excuses.” 

Erik spits the word at him with so much disdain and vitriol, Charles draws back.

“Weak, feeble excuses to try to assuage your guilt. All this time… you criticize me for my actions, you judge me for what I’ve done. All the while, here you are: lying, hiding, omitting, taking my children away from me!”

Charles opens his mouth to retort before he stops as Erik gives a pained groan, holding his abdomen. He reminds himself that Erik was just shot and is still recovering. He shouldn’t be riling himself up. He shouldn’t even be up and about. Fighting is not going to help either of them. He cannot be on the defensive right now. He needs to be open, honest. He needs things to be different this time. He closes his eyes and counts to ten before looking back at Erik.

“You’re right. When I was pregnant with David, I didn’t try my hardest to find you. I looked for every excuse in the book and latched on to them, so I didn’t have to try very hard to find you. Because I didn’t want to find you.”

Erik glares at him wordlessly. Charles plows on, ignoring the heat of his gaze.

“I… I didn’t trust you. I thought you would leave again, and I couldn’t deal with that twice in a row on top of everything else. And there were the boys. They realized the truth about me, us. They hated you, and they were disgusted by me, but at least they stayed.”

Erik gives him an incredulous look.

“You didn’t want me,” he states plainly. 

Charles raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“In anything that happened between us, what made you think I didn’t want you?”

“You said as much on that beach.”

Charles gets an image of them in Cuba, Charles, a heavy weight in Erik’s arms. He hears Erik’s voice from that day, not that he could ever forget it, but he feels what he felt then too.

 _“We want the same thing,” Erik says, hope filling his chest. It’s_ _a traitorous thing, rearing its head at the most inopportune times._

 _Erik has made up his mind, he made it on Shaw’s_ _ship, but now he hesitates. Charles will be better off without him, he knows that, but Erik will be better with Charles. Charles is safety, certainty, steady confidence that no one has had in Erik since Shaw put a bullet in his mother’s head. Together, he and Charles would be unstoppable. They could shake the very foundations of society. Charles has already made Erik change so much about how he views himself, and how he sees the world and his place in it. He knows something is broken between them. Something snapped the night before in Brian Xavier’s study, but they could fix that if only Charles can just see things Erik’s way._

_Charles stares up at him with tear-filled eyes._

_“My friend, I’m sorry, but we do not.”_

_Erik’s heart stutters, fractures, and then breaks._

“You and I remember things very differently.”

Charles reaches out with his powers, allows Erik to see his memory of the event.

_“I want you by my side. We’re brothers, you and I. All of us, together. Protecting each other. We want the same thing,” Erik says._

_Charles stares up at him with tear-filled eyes. He can’t hear anything from Erik. The void where his orderly mind should be is grating. It agitates the raw psionic wounds Charles can feel in his head. He can still taste the tang of blood in his mouth from their squabble, but the metallic taste on his tongue isn’t just iron, it is steel. His head is pounding, reeling from the shock of Shaw having just died, of Charles essentially dying at the same time. Charles could never want to do something like that again. He is a lot of things, but a killer isn’t one of them. Erik has to know that. Charles would let him know that, but the helmet. The bloody contraption is distracting, it’s cloying. It physically hurts, but more than that, it hurts to think of what it represents. Erik doesn’t want him anymore. He doesn’t want to share the intimacy they had before anymore. He wants Charles by his side. After all, Charles is useful. Charles just helped him kill Shaw, and his telepathy can find other mutants to join Erik’s_ _cause. His power can protect him, but he doesn’t **want** Charles. He wants Professor X. A brother, not a lover._

_“My friend, I’m sorry, but we do not.”_

_Erik turns away from him after a few seconds, seemingly dismissing him. Charles’ heart stutters, fractures, and then breaks._

“We have different political views, we always knew that, but I didn’t tell you to leave. Raven, yes, but not you.”

“You implied,” Erik insists.

Charles sighs.

“All that tells me is our communication skills leave much to be desired.”

“On that much, we can agree,” Erik shoots back, anger still evident in his voice.

“Twelve years, Charles?”

Charles looks away as he starts to explain.

“After David was born, I debated telling you. You weren’t easy to find, even with Cerebro. Emma and Azazel made sure of that. I thought about you and Anya—”

“Don’t,” Erik warns, a flare of hurt and pain creeping under the surface of his thoughts.

Charles gives him an apologetic look.

“I only mean to say I thought about you as a father. I knew you would be a good one, you already were once, but you were also a terrorist. You were popping up on government watchlists all over the world, and I needed to protect my son, so I dallied in deciding. Then JFK was assassinated. That decided it. I didn’t make a conscious choice not to tell you until everything with Logan. I know I could’ve told you on the plane or Paris or even DC, but…”

“But?” Erik bites out, his voice clipped and still unyielding. Charles looks down as shame wells up in him, some tears coming to his eyes unbidden.

“But I was hurt. In a lot of ways, I wanted you to be too.”

He glances up at Erik. His eyes were narrowed as he looks down at Charles. 

“Everything was broken. I was broken. I was a mess. I was an alcoholic, a drug addict. And you were broken too. I didn’t know how to fix it, everything between us, I didn’t know if it could be fixed. I was so tired, I couldn’t— I didn’t have the energy to do _this_ , so I didn’t say anything. I was barely holding it together. I just… I couldn’t make the words come out. I was too afraid of what you would say. I didn’t want to hear your rejection. I didn’t want to give you a reason to leave. And everything was so surreal. I wasn’t even sure it was really happening. Then you were gone, so it didn’t matter. For a few months anyway. I got sober, started putting my life back together, and then I found out I was pregnant again. This time I really did try to find you. I wanted… I don’t know, but I wanted it to be different this time. I found you a few times, I felt you, and then you shut me out.”

“I got the helmet back,” Erik confirms quietly.

“Further along in the pregnancy, I couldn’t try as often. It was endangering the twins. I was on bed rest, I had to take it easy. Then the school was open, and the Maximoffs showed up, but I was getting so busy, and it slipped to the background. I figured if I got the chance, I’d tell you. I didn’t picture it quite like this.”

“How’d you picture it, Charles? Did I fall over myself to forgive you, reassure you of your rightness? Did I tell you I understand? You won’t hear those words from me.”

“No, I don’t expect that. I won’t apologize for doing what I thought was right at the time to protect my son and myself, but I do regret that you missed as much time with David as you did. I wish you’d have gotten to know each other. I wish you could have seen him grow up.”

The two were silent for a long while before Erik speaks once more.

“What now?”

Charles shrugs a little helplessly.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought this far ahead, to be honest.”

“Are you going to stop me from seeing them?”

Charles shakes his head.

“As long as you’re here, you can see them when you wish. You’re their father too. They seem to like you. I couldn’t keep you separated if I tried anyway. David will find a way to talk to you if he wants to.”

“His telepathy is strong,” Erik comments offhand, an undercurrent of pride to his voice.

“It is. It always has been. Both of his mutations are powerful. He won’t be as powerful as Wanda is, but he’ll grow stronger still.”

Charles can feel even more pride at the mention of Wanda’s powers, and he feels compelled to say it.

“You should know, Magnus is baseline.”

Erik stares at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“How could you know that?”

“I have a… let’s call it a sixth sense. He’s not a mutant. Is that going to be a problem?”

Erik’s face goes blank, but Charles can feel different emotions going through him as he processes this information, there is disappointment present and apprehension but not anger or hatred.

“Why should it be? My family was baseline.”

Charles snorts a little.

“That hasn’t stopped you from going after humans before.”

“Humans whose intent it is to harm mutantkind.”

“You believe humans are inferior.”

“I do.”

“Our son is human. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself, all of this is so new, but I need to ask: are you going to go through his life believing him less than his siblings?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles.”

“Is it so ridiculous considering your beliefs? I don’t want to get into an argument or debate about all the contradictions in your logic, but I will not have any of my children believing that they are less than each other because of how they were born, whether they are mutant or human. I will not promote human or mutant superiority to my children. Yes, I do believe mutants are an evolutionary step forward for the homo sapien genus. That does not mean I believe humans are obsolete and must die en masse so mutants can inherit the earth.”

“… I don’t believe that either.”

Charles stops and stares at Erik.

“Emma can be very convincing. I will always believe that the greed and avarice of the human race as a whole will present a larger threat to us than any tentative peace can moderate. Still, I recognize that your efforts, along with Emma’s and others’, have done more for mutantkind than I have recently. The movement has its heroes now and even its villains with groups like the MLF. I don’t have a place in it anymore.”

Erik sounds lost, adrift, and purposeless. It affects Charles more than he would care to admit.

“Stay,” he says before he even means to.

“The children are here. You’ve just met them. Wanda and Peter will be off soon. Peter wants them to go off on a round-the-world trip before Wanda starts looking into colleges. David wants to get to know you. Lorna and Magnus are still young. There are still milestones you haven’t missed. If you don’t have anywhere to go, you should stay.” 

He feels vulnerable, more than he wishes to be right now. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Erik says no.

“Is my old room still free?”

Erik’s old room, which is only two doors down from Charles’.

“Yes.”

Erik nods but doesn’t give an answer. Charles perks up as he hears Amelia project a question in his head.

“Amelia is looking for you. You’re meant to be in the infirmary.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”

Charles gives him a disbelieving look.

“You were bleeding out. She had to perform surgery.”

“As I said, I’ve had worse.”

“How did that happen anyway?”

Erik gives him a searching look.

“Do you really want to know, Charles?”

“Probably not.”

“It’s nothing that will follow me here. I’m fine. I’d rather be in a bed than a hospital cot at any rate.”

Charles restrains an eyeroll.

“I… I should get down to dinner. The others must be looking for me. You should at least visit the infirmary and let Amelia change your bandages before going to your room.”

Erik nods in reply. They are silent once more, the air still heavy with other words they haven’t said, even if it is a bit clearer. There are so many other things they could discuss, but Charles feels worn out. He only now realizes that Erik’s pallor is still paler than ordinary. There are dark circles under his eyes, bruises on his face, and he is still clutching his abdomen. He knows if he pushes, Erik will pull, so he decides its best to leave him to it. He nods at him and turns to exit the room. Erik calls him just as he reaches the door. He turns inquiringly to face him.

Erik approaches him and bends towards him before grimacing. Charles watches bemused as he drops down on one knee so they are eye level. He has just a moment to realize what he’s doing before Erik’s lips are pressed to his. He feels shock rocket through him at this abrupt action. He just manages to start kissing back when Erik pulls away. He struggles back to his feet and stares down at Charles.

“My interest in you has nothing to do with usefulness. I don’t…” Erik trails off, leaving whatever he was going to say hanging.

“I’m going to spend time with the children. I have a lot of lost time to make up for. You should… I would like you to be there too.”

Charles nods wordlessly, still in shock. Erik’s eyes meet and hold his.

“I’m angry with you. I probably will be for a long time. I’m going to the infirmary. You should eat.”

Charles watches him walk out of the room, mystified.

He has no idea what just happened.

**~*~*~**

The mansion seems a queer place after Erik arrives.

Some things remain unchanged. The school operates the same as it ever has. Charles teaches his classes, handles his administrative duties, he still has his meetings with his teachers, him and Tzipora still brainstorm about new approaches to the curriculum while Hank and Betsy sift through applications. His students are mostly unaware or unaffected by Erik’s presence. He stays away from the students’ dorms and the teachers’ living quarters, as Charles said he would. The only ones who know he is there is Jean, who heard his mind and inquired about it, and Rick, who was awake as always and came across Erik roaming the mansion late one night. Charles still drops David off at school every weekday. He still goes to congressional meetings and conferences with various mutant rights organizations and other political entities who wish to have his backing for one agenda or another. He still lunches with Emma whenever he can. He still jokes around with Betsy and Marya. He still helps to train Wanda and other students.

Sometimes, he can make himself forget that things are different.

Then he hears the timber of Erik’s voice singing a Yiddish or German lullaby to Lorna and Magnus. He sees him and David in the backyard playing catch or him and Peter catching up on all the music Erik’s missed or him helping train Wanda’s powers, and he can never allow himself to forget. Erik is there at the breakfast table in the morning. He is in the living room, watching a program with the children. He is in the tearoom having a chat with Marya and Django. He is in the nursery entertaining the children. He is even in Charles’ room, watching the babies while he showers, or helping David with his homework. Any number of things. Erik is just _here_.

All these years longing for it, and now Charles is at a loss. He doesn’t know what to do with that. He and Erik have kept as civil as possible for them, which means they fight and argue frequently. They argue about the kids, about Erik’s parenting approach vs. Charles’, about how much information about Erik’s past is too much to tell David, about his bedtime and Lorna’s growing awareness of her powers and any other number of parenting disagreements. They argue about Raven, about her radio silence and Erik’s decision to kill her, and Erik’s revelation about their brief relationship and about her and Azazel and Kurt. They argue politics all the time. They can never escape that. Erik has softened on some things, changed his mind on others, but his general stance remains the same. However, he shows no bias when he is with Magnus, only ever exuding love and affection and tenderness with the children.

They have somehow managed to escape talking about them. Everything from the kiss in the playroom to Cuba has remained unspoken for reasons Charles can’t fathom, but he does nothing to open a dialogue. They have a tentative truce for the sake of the children. Erik is still angry at him, Charles can feel it, but he hasn’t started a real fight with him ever since he got here three weeks ago, and Charles is unwilling to break the ceasefire.

They sit in the children’s nursery now, Lorna and Magnus on the floor between them fighting over a metal dog figurine Erik crafted. Lorna reaches out to snatch it from Magnus, who has been staring at the item in fascination while sucking on his pacifier. Charles feels a spike of irritation from Magnus, but he doesn’t make a sound beyond a soft disgruntled groan.

“Lorna, be nice. Your Vati is making one for you right now. You have to wait,” Charles chides her mildly, giving the dog back to Magnus. Lorna whines in discontent. Charles shoots her a displeased look. Lorna’s lip trembles slightly, and Charles sighs, sensing trouble coming.

“Here we go,” he mutters to himself just before Lorna lets out an ear-splitting cry. Magnus startles a little against Charles’ chest but doesn’t start crying, too used to Lorna’s occasional tantrums. Erik looks down at the girl with soft reproach.

“Now, now, kleine maus, if you can’t be patient, you won’t get one of your own.”

Lorna whines pitifully, pointing at the dog forlornly. Magnus stares between his twin and the figurine before he pulls his pacifier out.

“Whoosh,” he says quietly, shaking the dog in his hand. Lorna quiets down, staring at her brother.

“Whoosh,” Magnus repeats insistently, shaking the dog again. Charles would dismiss it as one of those exchanges babies have that adults aren’t privy to, but he can feel, through his link with Lorna, a nudge coming from her gut. Her powers. It’s been getting more and more apparent lately. Erik has made a note of it too, can feel her trying to manipulate the same magnetic field he is connected to. It’s made him proud as punch that his daughter has the same power as him, as underdeveloped as it is. Erik becomes privy to Lorna’s attempts now too as he stops reshaping the metal heap to pay attention to her.

Magnus holds his hand out, presenting the figurine to Lorna. Instead of snatching it, the dog struggles into the air and wobbly crosses the distance between the two babies until it drops like a stone in Lorna’s lap. She coos as she picks the dog up, and Magnus starts clapping.

“Papa. Whoosh,” he repeats, smiling up at Charles.

“Yes, apparently so. Looks like you two have been holding out on us,” Charles replies, leaning down to kiss the boy’s downy auburn hair.

Erik picks Lorna up in his arms and throws her in the air, congratulating her on a job well done. Lorna’s happy laughter fills the room. Magnus stares up at them. Charles feels a little longing coming from the baby. Erik glances down at him.

“I haven’t forgotten you, geliebt,” Erik says, putting Lorna down so he can throw Magnus in the air.

“Helping your sister with her powers already? You’re a little teacher in the making.”

Magnus starts laughing too. Charles can’t help the grin that alights his face. He didn’t honestly think he’d get to experience a moment like this with Erik. There is a sense of rightness that settles in his chest, even as Lorna looks to Charles for praise. He picks her up and presses a flood of kisses over her face until she is squealing and breathless. He and Erik lock eyes and share a smile.

It isn’t long after that they put the twins down for a nap. Having Erik around to fill up their day with more activities has made putting them to sleep an easier task, especially Lorna. She’s always been a daddy’s girl, and now she has two fathers to wrap around her little finger. Erik is firmer with her than Charles had ever been, and the little girl was inclined to listen to him. Perhaps it’s their shared power that helps that along. Charles sits in his wheelchair, running his hand through the green and auburn strands of hair he can reach while Erik sings to them. He doesn’t sing a lullaby this time, at least not a traditional one. Charles is both puzzled and amused when Erik starts singing Elton John songs until they finally fall asleep.

“Peter?” Charles asks once they leave the room.

“He introduced me to him a week ago. The songs have been stuck in my head ever since.” 

Charles smiles.

“She’s finally manifested, or finally decided to let us know she’s manifested anyway.”

Erik lets a proud smile loose on his face.

“I’m glad I was here to see her use her powers for the first time,” he says, no malice or anger in his voice.

Charles nods.

“I am too.” 

Erik looks lost in his head for a moment before he glances over at Charles with a look of indecision.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Erik’s tone is serious. It could be about any number of things, but Charles doesn’t let himself speculate. He nods towards his study. Going to either of their bedrooms seems like it would be too risky.

Charles wheels over to the couch and glances back as he notices Erik isn’t behind him. He follows the man’s gaze to where it is glued on to the chess set that Charles has left untouched for the last twelve years. A ridiculous notion, embarrassing. He tells himself Erik hasn’t noticed, that there is no way he remembers what their last game looked like. They never finished because they fought about Erik killing Shaw. Charles felt Erik slipping away and threw himself at the other man in a desperate attempt to make him stay before he ever left.

“You left it like this all these years?” Erik asks needlessly.

Charles shrugs a little.

“Couldn’t find an adequate partner.”

Erik glances over at him before returning his gaze to the chess set. He is quiet long enough that Charles feels compelled to speak.

“Do you fancy a game?”

Erik’s gaze remains on the board a while longer before he shakes his head.

“Another time.”

He moves and sits down on the couch. He nods to the space beside him. Charles carefully moves out of his wheelchair, leaving a small gap between them.

“Over the past three weeks, spending time with the children, I’ve been thinking about everything I missed. I can still have firsts with Lorna and Magnus. I missed their first words, but I saw their first steps, and I got to see Lorna manifest for the first time. Everything I do with David is a first for us, but it won’t be a true first. I don’t have memories of his first step, or smile, or word, or the first time he used his powers, the first time he scraped a knee, or had a crush. I know how precious memories like those are. They’re all I have left of— of Anya.”

Charles feels his heart constrict in his chest.

“Erik, I’m—” 

“I’m not saying this because I want you to apologize again, Charles.”

Erik debates with himself before seeming to come to a decision.

“I want you to show me.”

Charles raises an eyebrow.

“I want to see everything I’ve missed with them. I want to see David as a baby, I want to see him growing, maturing. I need to see it. I want you to show me.”

Charles’ eyes widen as understanding dawns on him.

“You want me to use my powers on you? But you hate my powers.”

Erik gives him a deadpan look.

“I do not hate your powers.”

Charles scoffs in return.

“Experience says otherwise.”

“It isn’t hate, Charles.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, but Erik doesn’t elaborate.

“I can’t get any of those moments back. I can’t feel a genuine reaction to these experiences, but at least I’ll have seen it.”

“It won’t be like they’re your memories. I’ll just be sharing mine.”

“I know.”

“And you’ll feel what I felt when I was in those moments. I won’t be able to shield you from it.”

“I remember how it feels.”

“I… I wasn’t always my most charitable to you over the years, it… it’ll be intense.”

Erik holds his gaze and then moves closer to him. Charles nods to himself and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, pressing his fingers to Erik’s temples.

He doesn’t push into Erik’s mind, but focuses on going deep within his own to pull the relevant memories forward. Some of them are fuzzier than others, tinged with alcohol and drugs, but still precise thanks to his perfect recall. He starts from the very beginning: he shows Erik the moment he found out he was pregnant from Hank, the two weeks of denial before he first felt David’s mind blink into existence. He wants to skip the pregnancy, but he lets Erik see it, his stomach growing larger, the months of sickness and pain, his anger and grief, and aversion to Erik and the baby they created. He thinks of the first time he saw David and held him, lets Erik feel how much Charles instantly began loving their son.

He sends him David’s first smile, his first word, ‘Papa’, and his first steps, the way he pulled himself up using Charles’ wheelchair and shakily stumbled over to Sean, who broke a vase when he cheered too loudly.

There is the first time he was sick. A bad ear infection gave him a fever. Charles and the boys fretted over him for days before it broke. There is the first time David saw snow. Once the snow melted, he subsequently got into the flour in the kitchen and dumped it all over the floor to make snow angels. There is when he manifested and the time of fear and uncertainty as his powers lashed out and hurt others around him and himself, Charles’ guilt about locking his telepathy away. There is the first time he was seriously hurt when he broke his wrist at the playground. There is the first time he played a full song on the piano. The first time he saw Charles cry. Their first serious argument. The first time Charles disappointed him. His first funeral. His first schoolyard crush. The first time he learned about Erik and every subsequent time after that. 

Charles lets Erik feel everything he’s felt for him over the years: the hurt, the pain, the anger, and the hatred, along with the love, the longing, the hope, and desire. It permeates every memory in a way he cannot mollify. 

He pulls himself out of that intense haze, soothes the burning that well of memories causes by allowing him to see Lorna and Magnus too. He shows him the pregnancy, a significantly less stressful time, shows him the first time they kicked and David naming them, shows him his first time holding them and him and David caring for them, shows him their first smiles and their first words, Lorna had said “Papa” and Magnus said what they interpreted to mean “Davey”. He lets him see their first tooth and their first trip to the park. He shows him memories of Wanda and Peter with David, Lorna, and Magnus: the siblings having a picnic in the front yard, baking in the kitchen, listening to music in Peter’s room, watching movies in the common room.

Charles isn’t sure how long they sit there, the memories pouring through him like a sieve straight into Erik’s head before he runs out of things to show him. 

He pulls his fingers back, gently reeling everything inside himself so he doesn’t startle Erik. He blinks his eyes open and isn’t surprised by the tear that falls down his cheek. Tears are falling down Erik’s face too. They gaze at each other for a long while, neither sure what to say as the memories slot themselves back into Charles’ head and settle in Erik’s. Charles doesn’t know if there is anything to say. Erik reaches out and brushes away one of Charles’ tears. He wants to lean into the touch, but he doesn’t. Erik doesn’t bother giving him a choice. He leans forward, pressing his head against Charles’.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice cracking. Charles nods. Neither pulls away. He can feel Erik’s hand running through his long hair, twisting strands around his fingertips.

“Erik, we—” 

Erik presses their lips together demandingly. Charles can taste the salt from their tears and the coffee that Erik had not long ago. He savors the touch for a moment, lingering before he pulls back.

“We shouldn’t. We… there’s so much, Erik.”

“It’ll still be there later. Just… let it just be us right here, right now. Just us and this.”

Charles takes a deep breath, knowing he might regret this but also knowing he’s missed this more than words could say. He leans forward and presses his lips to Erik’s. He tries to convey as much of his feelings as he possibly can without just telepathically projecting it. Erik grips a handful of his hair and deepens the kiss. Charles’ breath hitches as Erik’s tongue meets his. He throws his arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting the press of his body against his. He gasps in surprise as Erik lifts him up bridal style, breaking the kiss. Erik’s eyes are already darkening with want and lust. This is what got them in this predicament in the first place. They really probably shouldn’t. Erik presses an almost chaste kiss to his lips. It sets Charles’ body on fire in a way even the more intense kisses didn’t. 

He can’t find it in himself to protest.

**~*~*~**

They don’t talk about it after that, it just becomes a thing. 

Charles knows that it isn’t healthy. There’s more they must discuss: their miscommunication in Cuba, their hurt, anger, and grievances over the past ten years. The children are only half of it. However, sex has never been something they had a problem with. Even with the added complication of Charles’ paralysis, Erik listens and learns how to stimulate him, learns how to manipulate his erogenous spots. Charles still feels it when Erik enters him, can feel pleasure, the sensation is just duller than it would’ve been if his legs were working or he was on the serum. Erik doesn’t complain when Charles suddenly loses erections. He’s patient, gentle when Charles needs him to be and rough when he wants it. They don’t use his telepathy in bed like they used to. There is still too much unsaid about it for either to feel comfortable going there, but it doesn’t matter. This is a dance they pick up again relatively quickly, psionic bond or not.

It goes deeper than just their minds. They lay in bed, connecting to one another, soul to soul, night after night. Erik leaves with the rising sun every morning, so no one sees him spending the night in Charles’ room. He doesn’t want to explain what’s going on between them, least of all to David. Erik kisses him before he goes, they spend their days in their separate routines, spend time with the babies together, then with David, then eat dinner with everyone else in the family wing. At some point during the night, Erik will slip into bed with Charles or collect him from his office when he is working too late. They’ll touch and kiss each other, pleasure one another, and won’t talk about it.

Instead, they talk about what Erik’s been doing since DC: traveling, going to the Maximoffs, traveling some more, being kidnapped by Emma. He encountered Raven while he was reconciling himself with the 70s. She hadn’t been thrilled to see him considering he tried to kill her. She had wanted nothing to do with him, too busy on her one-woman crusade to want to start up the old Brotherhood. Last Erik saw she was living with a precog helping homeless and runaway mutant teens. Charles misses her but is happy she’s found her place. He just hopes she finds it in herself to visit the mansion. He wants to introduce his children to her, and monthly letters aren’t enough to fill the place of a mother in Kurt’s life.

They talk about the school, Charles’ students and the teachers. Erik is indignant that Charles has humans teaching here. Charles doesn’t even grace that complaint with an argument. He has no need to defend his choices when it comes to his school to Erik. That is one thing he will never compromise on. He is proud of his achievements in that regard, has always been. Erik doesn’t disparage the idea of the school, or the overall structure Charles has instituted to balance their academic learning with their training. They talk about Charles’ short-term and long-term goals for the children, about the scholarships he has set up for those students who need financial aid getting into colleges or prestigious private schools, but don’t want to settle for just his or Emma’s school. He could understand the draw to established prestige schools or ivy leagues. He had graduated from Oxford after all. Erik offers suggestions of books he can teach the children about, historical figures that make for good case studies, methods to promote training. Sometimes Charles implements his ideas, and sometimes he doesn’t. He thinks Erik could make an excellent addition to the staff. He is more of a tough-love kind of teacher, but it would provide even more balance to their approach. He doesn’t make that suggestion out loud.

He still feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Erik is here, has been here, doesn’t show any signs of leaving but Charles can’t help expecting it. Erik doesn’t feel like he has a place in the world at the moment, and he wants to spend time with the children, but if he found some new inroads into his cause, Charles assumes he’ll leave again. Perhaps not without difficulty this time. He truly has gotten close to the children in a short space of time. However, Erik has always been a man of singular focus, goal-oriented. He thrives off fighting, struggling, and there must always be an enemy to struggle against. Often, Charles does not believe this life of steady domesticity will keep Erik tethered to him for much longer. He isn’t even sure what Erik wants from him other than sex. For all his certainty when Erik was gone, that feeling is far away now. Erik is attracted to him physically, fine, that’s never been in question. Did Erik love him before? Charles believes he did. He can’t say if Erik feels that way about him now. He has no clue what their relationship is going to look like a week from now, let alone in the far future. Charles tries to just live in the moment and not worry about it, but he isn’t built for that. His concerns get farther away any time he gets to see Erik with the children.

He’s settled on the porch, Lorna asleep on his lap, and a forgotten book in his hand as he stares out into the lawn. Erik is there with David, Peter, and Wanda, coaching them through their exercises while Magnus sits by his feet, ripping up weeds and grass. Charles is still a little baffled that David has taken to Erik as he has. All that time he spent fretting over David’s hatred, and one glimpse into Erik’s head has turned him completely around. It’s a little frustrating if he’s being candid but not unwelcome. All the children allow Erik into their lives in one way or another. Lorna and Magnus are the easiest to please, but David has also made himself totally accessible, and so has Peter. Music works as a bridge between the teen and the older man. Peter and Erik’s personalities differ so much that it’s comical watching Erik try to keep up with Peter sometimes. Poor Peter, when he gets overexcited and overly emotional about things, which happens a lot with Erik, tends to run off and hide. He’s afraid of embarrassing himself. Erik does seem out of his depth with Peter sometimes. He is a teenager and a rebellious one at that. The only person Peter doesn’t pick a fight with just because he can is Marya, and that’s because she scares him too much to risk her ire.

Charles has been less aware of Erik’s relationship with Wanda. She is standoffish with new people by nature, and their shared connection through Natalya has made Charles unsure of her reaction to him. It didn’t seem like she wanted anything to do with him in the beginning. One night though, Charles found them talking in the kitchen. He heard them mention Natalya, and he realized she was telling Erik what happened. She was going into more detail than he had ever heard her do so before. He didn’t want to violate her privacy, so he turned to go. Before he left, he caught a glimpse of their hands clasped together on the table. Erik was rubbing soothing circles into her skin with his thumb before he gently wiped away a tear and mumbled something in Serbian to her. Wanda let a small sob escape, and Erik pulled her into a hug. Charles had then rolled away. He didn’t know what else they talked about, but Erik came to bed three hours later. Charles didn’t ask him about it. He didn’t have any influence over his relationship with his eldest children, and Erik didn’t offer any explanations. That’s fine with him. Everyone is, at least, civil with each other. Erik is even nice to Ana and Kurt. That’s all Charles can ask for.

“Is it, though?”

Charles glances up to see Betsy approaching him with a sly grin on her face.

“I caught you so distracted you didn’t even feel me read you, did you?”

“Or you’re getting better.”

“Unlikely,” she replies bluntly.

They take a moment to watch the scene unfold before them. David is deflecting metal disks Erik is throwing at him. At the same time, the older man coaches Wanda on keeping the wall she has erected with her powers stable and corporeal enough for Peter to run up it. Erik nods and Peter runs off like a shot, first taking off into the woods before darting back into the lawn in a haze of electric blue. He runs vertically up the twenty-foot structure before beginning to flail a bit and start crashing back to the ground. He stops ten feet away in the air and floats the rest of the way down, thanks to Erik.

“You need a bit more momentum and to get out of your head. Trust your body to know what it’s doing, but it was better than last time,” he says to Peter as he stands up. He says something to Wanda in Serbian that makes her don a pleased smile. Charles has noticed that she and Erik tend to communicate in the teen’s mother tongue. He doesn’t know why, but he suspects it gives the girl a sense of familiarity the same way Kurt was over the moon when he realized Erik was German. Even though Kurt was born in Russia at Azazel’s childhood home, he spent the formative years of his life in Munich. West Germany is more his home than Russia was, and America will ever be.

One last metal disk is flung at David and he stops it in its tracks to land uselessly to the grass. He had managed to stop most of the projectiles. He and Erik share a wordless smile at his progress, though Charles suspects they may be telepathically communicating. Despite that little hiccup when they first met, Erik has not rebuffed David’s powers, but he has also been helping to reinforce Charles’ bid to get David to use his powers more responsibly. The united front does seem to be working. Charles has gotten fewer complaints. Also, the presence of other young telepaths like Jean helps give David something to refocus his powers on. Just then, Magnus pulls on Erik’s pant leg. He looks down and the boy holds up a fistful of withered weeds, small wildflowers and blades of grass.

“Bucket,” Magnus says proudly. 

Charles’ mind immediately supplies the correct word, bouquet. At 17 months old, Magnus is picking up words far quicker than Lorna, and even David did at his age. His pediatrician has encouraged Charles to continue fostering an environment where Magnus can flex his cognitive muscles. If the trend continues, he might even test for those new gifted and talented programs (if Charles chooses to send him to a public school).

Erik takes the pitiful, wilted bouquet with all the care he would a $100 rose arrangement and leans down to kiss Magnus’ forehead in thanks.

“Danke, geliebt.”

Magnus gives him a grin before returning to ripping up the grass. Charles is sure he is sporting a sappy expression on his face thanks to the scene. Betsy sighs beside him.

“I really wanted to hate the guy.”

Charles looks over at her curiously.

“You were in a terrible way. I never said so, but my opinion of the guy that put you there was pretty low.”

“He wasn’t the only reason.”

“I know, I know. Still, he didn’t help matters. I was all ready to split him in two with my sword if need be, but the kids like him and you love him, so I’ll refrain. Plus, I’m not breaking my sobriety for a has-been terrorist, no matter how GQ good looking he is.”

“Thank you for your kindness and understanding,” Charles deadpans, shifting Lorna as she fusses in her sleep.

“That’s beside the point.”

“Which is?”

“You should really figure out what you’re doing with him.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?”

“No. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now, would I?”

Charles sighs a little, running his hand down Lorna’s back to settle her into her nap again.

“Erik and I can debate about philosophy or politics or history for hours, but when it comes to our relationship, it’s different. Erik is a… delicate man to speak to when it comes to emotions. I don’t want to push him and frankly, I don’t want to put myself in a precarious position with him.”

“I was under the impression you were letting him put you in multiple positions almost every night.”

Charles gives Betsy a scandalized look.

“There are young ears present,” he protests.

“Like she’ll know what I’m talking about. Sex is all well and good, but when you got three kids together, at a certain point it’s time to admit sex is not just sex. Who the hell wants to be 43 years old and casually knocking boots with the father of their children? It’s a little depressing. If you can’t get your shit together by now, why bother to keep trying?”

Charles shrugs a little.

“Familiarity? Love? Hope? I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out. Sit him down and actually use your big boy words. What’s the purpose of paying for all that therapy and rehab if you aren’t going to use any of what you learned?”

Charles nods begrudgingly. He knows Betsy is right, he is just too afraid to upset the balance they have and risk losing Erik, but he’d rather be on solid ground than remain stumbling his way in the dark about this. He resolves to finally press for a conversation tonight. If Erik doesn’t want to talk, then Charles will not sleep with him.

Betsy snorts next to him.

“Good luck keeping to that ultimatum, horndog. It’s like you two are making up for ten years of no sex. Ten bucks says he fucks your brains out tonight and you forget all about this newfound resolve of yours.”

Charles doesn’t grace her with an answer. He will make sure they put their cards on the table and get on the right page. He wants to continue living his life happily and securely, not always waiting for a penny or shoe to fall out of the sky. Erik, emotionally stunted as he is, will have to understand that or find a partner elsewhere. The idea twists Charles’ stomach, but it must be done.

The sound of Erik and David’s laughter reaches his ears. He feels his heart stutter in his chest. Betsy gives him a knowing look, but Charles ignores it. 

Tonight. They will talk tonight.

**~*~*~**

Charles holds a hand to his chest, his body still thrumming from pleasure and stimulation. His heart is beating hard under his fingers and his breath is still rattling harshly through his lungs. Below his waist is a strange mixture of numbness and tingling that comes after Erik has fucked him. The sensations that shoot through his body suddenly cut off when it hits severed nerve connections. His mind feels fuzzy as unconsciousness floats on the edges of his awareness. He lingers there, not asleep, but not really awake either. His head is blank and unconcerned with anything besides languishing in the last vestiges of his orgasm. The room comes back into focus as Erik’s weight dips the other side of the mattress. He feels a warm rag run across his chest and move lower until the sensation is lost to him. He allows Erik to clean him up as he fights back sleep.

They had been going at it for three hours now. Nothing in particular had sparked the carnal hunger. They never needed a special occasion to lose themselves in each other. Charles feels wrung out and exhausted, but he made a promise to himself and he wants to keep it, if only to prove Betsy wrong. Erik leaves and then returns, pulling Charles close enough that he has to rest his head against the older man’s shoulder and dragging the bedsheets up to their waists. Charles settles in, pressing his nose against the length of Erik’s neck, his forehead brushing up against the stubble growing on his cheek. Erik presses a kiss to the top of his head, a finger playing with the long strands of Charles’ hair.

They stay there for long minutes, neither talking, simply enjoying the afterglow of their coupling. Finally, Charles convinces himself that if he doesn’t speak, the conversation will never happen.

“I want to talk to you tonight,” he announces. 

Erik hums inquiringly.

“I want to talk to you about us, I mean.”

He tilts his head up so their eyes can meet. Erik’s face is carefully blank, but Charles can see his reluctance in the set of his jaw. He snakes an arm up Erik’s back and pulls him closer. Their warm, sweaty skin sticks together uncomfortably, but they don’t make a move to separate. His hold is not strong enough that Erik can’t leave if he really wants to, but Charles hopes it’ll make him stay a few seconds longer, no matter how much he doesn’t want to have this talk.

“These past weeks have been something of a dream, if only for the surreal nature of it. I had hoped you would come back, that I could see you with the kids as a family, but I never expected it. I’m glad that you and David and the others have built a relationship between yourselves.” 

Erik doesn’t say anything, so Charles shrugs a little.

“I know you’re still angry with me. Maybe you always will be. Maybe there’s nothing else to say about that situation, but when it comes to us, there is still a lot we haven’t talked about. I don’t know if we can ever be something beyond just casual sex again. I don’t know how to fix what’s between us or if it can be fixed. I don’t know what you want from me or from us. I don’t even know if you’re going to stay this time.”

“Have I given you a reason to believe I plan on leaving?” Erik asks.

Charles shrugs helplessly.

“Not this time, no. But you’ve been gone for so long, voluntarily or not. The idea of you actually sticking around is a hard one for me to grasp. I feel that if there is a way to fix this, total honesty and transparency has to be the first step. I think we need to lay all our cards on the table and go from there.”

Healthy communication, Madelyne had told him, is the only way he can make amends and find peace and clarity in his life. If he lets things fester, before he knows it, he’ll be back to believing the bottom of a bottle is a haven. He will not do that to his children again. He promised David his sobriety and fidelity, and if he can keep the twins and Kurt from ever knowing that part of himself, he will. There’s too much to lose to go back. Erik looks at him with a slightly unreadable expression.

“What needs clarification?”

Charles shoots him a look. The German man nods curtly, shifting them so they are laying on the pillows next to each other, eye to eye.

“I’ll go first then.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, surprised at Erik’s willingness to talk. Words were never his preferred means of communication when it came to the topic of their relationship, he was a man of action.

“I had ten years to think of what I would say to you. That prison, in its isolation, left me a lot of time to reflect. I imagined many ways this conversation could go. Not a few times, I resolved to air all my grievances with you. I hated you sometimes while I was stuck in that place, thinking you had abandoned me to rot, that you could’ve come for me at any time, and no one would’ve been the wiser. Emma or Mystique could’ve done the same thing, but I was especially angry with you, considering that I attempted to save Kennedy because… because I realized my mistake and wanted to come back.”

“You…?”

Charles’ eyes widen in shock and disbelief at that revelation. Erik silently regards him for a moment.

“I don’t know what you think I was doing, but I didn’t spend my time away happy to be rid of you. I didn’t want you so I could use you to defeat my enemies or locate allies, or whatever other fallacies you told yourself. I found out Kennedy was a mutant and figured he was perfectly positioned to affect change for our kind. I even talked to him a few times. He seemed to have the right ideas about what the future could be, even if he was inclined to drag his feet. You would’ve liked him. I thought it couldn’t be so bad, trying it your way. Mine wasn’t helping move the needle enough. His notions were promising, but he was naïve and overly confident. I warned him he was in danger and he didn’t listen to me. I didn’t want to look you in the eye without at least trying to save him, but good deeds not going unpunished and all that. We know how that went. I was imprisoned trying to get back to you, so I blamed you, and I hated you.”

Charles looks down, bewildered that he had gotten everything so wrong back then and smarting from Erik’s honesty. He shouldn’t truly feel hurt because there have been many times, even up until a little over a year ago, that he hated Erik, illogically so. Still, his heart aches. Erik had been trying to come back to him. David would’ve still been young. Erik wouldn’t have missed out on much of his life. Maybe Charles would’ve stopped drinking before he got as bad as he did. Perhaps they could’ve been a family from the start. For all his talk, he would’ve forgiven Erik back then with barely a second thought, he’s sure of it. Erik’s fingers brush his cheek before he lifts Charles’ face by his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. He shakes his head wordlessly, but Charles feels a little tension leave him. Erik doesn’t hate him, not sincerely, not any more than Charles hates him.

“I don’t blame you for that anymore. It was a risk I chose to take knowing it could’ve ended badly for me. And I only hated you sometimes. Most days, I simply wanted to tell you the truth.”

“Tell me then. I think it’s time, don't you,” Charles hedges.

“Past time, I think.”

Charles settles patiently into the pillows, watching Erik intently as he gathers himself to speak.

“Shaw and the beach,” Erik states first.

Charles’ head thumps as he remembers the feeling of the hot sun, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the agony of metal carving a path through his skull, the ringing of a bullet, the ache in his chest as Erik turned from him and went down a road Charles could not follow. He pushes his recollections away so he can remain locked in this moment. This is what’s important right now.

The rest is just confetti, he remembers his dream manifestation of Erik saying. It can just fall away.

“I underestimated how much being close to Shaw again would affect me. I don’t think he truly remembered killing my mother until I confronted him. She was everything to me. By then, my grandparents had already died in the ghettos. My father was killed by a sturmbannfuhrer. I hadn’t seen my sister or my uncle since they were loaded on one of those godforsaken trains. My mother tried to keep me from the truth, but I knew they were going to die. It was just her and me, and he took her from me. To him, it was like swatting a fly. She was insignificant, just another nameless Jew who would ultimately be nothing but ash. I was... infuriated would be an understatement. I built my entire existence around avenging her, and she was a footnote of a footnote to Shaw. There was no serenity left when I put that helmet on, only pure rage and a need for vengeance. I couldn’t control it, it consumed me. Nothing else mattered.” 

Charles could feel the anger coming off Erik, leeching past his shields. It has diminished somewhat from years past but is still pungent and almost odorous. It brings to mind the smell of ash and brimstone. Erik is staring off into the distance, emotion clouding his eyes like Shaw was in the room with them. Charles has long accepted Erik’s anger on this front. He won’t try to take it from him. It goes deeper than just personal hurt, it’s a cultural wound that Charles cannot altogether understand.

“It wasn’t just Shaw standing across from me. He was the man who shot my father like he was less than an animal. The ones from Dachau who killed my uncle and those from Majdanek where my sister was killed. He was all the Nazi scum I encountered when I was traveling with Natalya. He was those men in Krakow who set my house on fire and didn’t care that Anya and Magda were inside, who held me back and wouldn’t let me save my daughter while she burned in front of me. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything other than my own hurts. Nothing superseded the need for vengeance. I didn’t want anything to. I wanted to be angry and hurt because I needed to feel satisfaction from seeing him die. I waited too long for it, fought too hard for it, lost too much for it to be anything besides the purest sense of vindication imaginable.”

Erik takes a shuddering breath, like the dark truth in his statements has shaken even him. Charles reaches over and takes Erik’s hand in his, letting him know he is still open and receptive to everything he is telling him. Erik squeezes his hand, staring at their intertwined fingers for a long stretch before he talks again, his voice low and wavering the slightest bit.

“I didn’t think anything could stop me, not truly, but I feared there was a chance you could. And not just the idea that you could slip into my mind and take my free will, but... the way I felt about you, the way I still feel... it’s nothing like I’ve felt before. I never questioned my actions like I did when I was with you, not even with Magda, definitely not with Natalya.”

“The helmet...”

“I knew you didn’t want me to kill him. If you looked in my head, you would’ve seen there was a chance to stop me. If I let you talk to me, I couldn’t have done it. If I knew what it would do to you, that you would feel him die, I wouldn’t have gone through with it, but killing him was a matter of necessity. I couldn’t live one more day knowing my mother was dead, countless of my people slaughtered, while he was alive and free to sail the world on yachts, rubbing elbows with the nouveau riche and famous. No. Sparing Shaw was never an option.”

Erik pauses and Charles takes a deep breath, internalizing all he said. It wasn’t so much surprising as enlightening. He had been thrown for a loop when Erik had come out of the ship seemingly a new man. He didn’t know how much being so close to Shaw had done his head in. Erik never allowed him to see because he hid under the helmet.

“What happened after you killed Shaw? I was with Moira. I... I had passed out from the coin.” 

Erik’s lips twist unhappily, but Charles waves it off, not wanting to be sidetracked.

“Moira said I was out for fifteen minutes. The children had been fighting the Hellfire Club, and you were gone that whole time. What were you doing in Shaw’s ship?”

“Thinking, coping, strategizing. There was never meant to be an after. The second I vowed to kill Shaw, I resolved that it would be a suicide mission. I was okay with that. I didn’t have anything to lose when I made that decision. Even up until the night before, I still figured I would die the next day. Then Shaw was dead, and I was still alive. I didn’t know what to do. I had to adjust, rearrange what the rest of my life was going to be.”

“In fifteen minutes,” Charles states dubiously.

“You know how my mind works better than I do. Yes, in fifteen minutes.”

“And you chose...” Charles trails off, unsure how to phrase it without causing a fight.

“I chose what I thought was right at the time. Shaw said some things that rang true.” 

Charles couldn’t hold in a snort then.

“Sebastian Shaw was many things, but a connoisseur of prudent advice and character judgment wasn’t one of them.”

“And yet, in my case, he was right. He forged me to be a weapon. That’s what I used my powers for, what I always have. Violence has always come easy to me because it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and I am good at it.”

“Erik, you’re not—” 

“You can’t truly still believe that I am some innocent, and every aberrant behavior I’ve displayed is down to some manipulation. If so, then you and Marya have that ridiculous notion in common. She likes to think that all those years ago in Nova Pazar Natalya corrupted me, that she seduced me into joining her hunts, that she forced my hand and made me a murderer. But Marya doesn’t know what happened in Krakow, that I leveled an entire village in one fell swoop and that I never felt bad about it, and still don’t. She would be frightened if she truly saw what lurks inside me, she’d want the twins nowhere near me. If she wasn’t frightened, then she’d be a fool. The same kind of hopeful, naïve fool I knew you were back then. If I told you that I wasn’t truly made to be playing house with you in a mansion in the suburbs of New York, you wouldn’t have believed me. You would’ve convinced me to stay, and I would’ve ruined everything, including you.”

“You decided to leave me when you were inside that ship, didn’t you? Even if the navies didn’t fire on us, you would’ve left anyway,” Charles says, realizing the truth of his statement even as Erik confirms it too.

“I would’ve said goodbye properly, but there was too much festering in me to stay. I was still itching for a fight. I closed the chapter on one war. I knew there was another lurking. I decided I’d rather start the war than wait for it to sneak up on me. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. There was you standing there, wanting me to be the better man. Leaving you was easier said than done. I did want you to come with me, even though I knew you probably wouldn’t, not with what I wanted to do. Even then, I think you could’ve talked me into staying if I wasn’t wearing the helmet.”

“But you did leave and I… well, you already know how I took it. What about now? Do you still believe yourself incapable of “playing house” with me? Do you still think I’m a naïve fool for hoping? Do you even still…?”

Charles doesn’t finish that sentence, but Erik seems to catch his meaning. The older man shakes his head, a spike of disbelief breaking through Charles’ shield.

“Charles, I knew I made a mistake leaving you 13 years ago, you think that fact is lost on me now?”

“DC—” 

“DC was an even bigger mistake than Cuba. I was… not in a good frame of mind. I don’t think I would’ve been good for you then, or David. Emma deciding to kidnap me was probably for the best. It made me confront my life, my choices. I killed Shaw, but I allowed him to live on through my actions, my ideology. I hate that man more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life, but I let myself become his successor. He would be proud of me.” 

Erik sneers at the thought. Charles smooths his fingers over the frown lines near Erik’s eyes, grounding him back to the room. Erik sighs, pulling Charles fingers to his lips. His breath catches in his throat as Erik kisses each individual digit.

“Erik, I need… I need to know plainly what you want.”

He rubs Charles’ fingers against his stubbled cheek, making his nerve endings jump with the contact.

“What do _you_ want, Charles? I know from your memories what you felt about me, what you wanted from me before, but what do you think, what do you believe, what do you want _now_?”

Charles lets a humorless chuckle escape his lips.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Erik stares at him silently.

“I want…” Charles shakes his head as his eyes start to burn.

“I want you to stay. I know it’s hard for you to want to do that because you lost your first two families and that has made you reluctant to want to start another, but I want you to stay with me anyway. I want you as a member of my family. I want to create more memories with the kids together. I want to see you teaching Lorna how to lift things, helping David with his telekinetic control, and teaching Magnus new words. I want you and Wanda baking in the kitchen, and you and Peter playing records in the sitting room. I want to hear you and Kurt sharing inside jokes in German, you having tea parties with Ana, Marya scolding you for one thing or another, and you and Django laughing like actual friends. I want you as an ally. I believe that your outlook on the world as one constantly primed for war, while horribly pessimistic, isn’t wholly inaccurate. I believe that I’m doing my part to mitigate that for the betterment of human and mutantkind alike, but I also believe you could be an invaluable addition to the school. I think you could provide the right dose of realism to balance out my, at times, idealized views. I want to wheel past and see you in a lecture hall teaching an English class on _The Autobiography of Malcolm X_ because I know you well enough to know you’d balk if I asked you to teach them about Martin Luther King or Gandhi or bloody John Lennon. I want to see you in the danger room, encouraging the kids afraid of their abilities to be themselves and love who they are. I want you as… you. I want to wake up with you next to me in the morning and to fall asleep with you at night. I want you there when I’m scared, or angry or any number of things and need someone who understands me around. I want you there to knock sense into me when I’m being arrogant and to share my achievements with when such events should happen. I want someone to share all my secrets with, someone who’ll see the worst, most wretched parts of me and still care, still love me. That is one thing that has always been true for me. No matter how much I’ve blamed you or feared you or turned my back on you, I have, do and always will love you, Erik. Even when I hated you, I loved you. I don’t know what that means for you, or the school, or mutantkind, or even just our children, but that’s the cold hard truth of things.”

Charles lets out a long shuddering breath, closing his eyes as a tear slips from his heavy eyes. It feels like a weight has shifted in his chest, moving off his lungs and allowing him to breathe properly. He didn’t know how much he needed to say all of that to Erik directly. He is too afraid to look and see what Erik’s reaction is. If he rejects him, he’s pretty sure a part of him is going to die. It won’t _break_ him, but he’s not sure he will be able to take the blow on the chin and move on. He shakes his head a little, wiping at his cheek.

“But I want you to stay for the right reason. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel like you don’t have anywhere else to go, or because you think you being with me is a requirement to see the children, or—” 

Charles cuts off his words with a stunted moan as Erik leans forward and kisses him. The kiss starts off hard and a bit frenzied. Erik pushes him to his back and climbs on top of him, pressing him into the pillows. Charles gasps as he kneads his thumb into the juncture between his throat and clavicle. Erik pulls away and stares down at Charles, who breathlessly stares back, confused. Erik’s lips twist and he leans in for another kiss, this one slower and gentler. Charles feels a shiver run from his neck down his broken back as Erik’s fingertips brush over his chest, lingers over his right nipple before settling over his heart.

Charles takes Erik by the cheek and pulls back so their lips still brush against each other with every breath.

“What…?”

“You are the smartest man I know, but you can also be one of the most oblivious too. Everything I’ve said to you, and you believe…” 

Erik presses another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Let me make it clear then. I love you, Charles. I have never stopped loving you. Things can change around us, or about us, but that will never change.”

If there was ever any hope that Charles could get out of this conversation without crying, it’s lost to him now. He doesn’t bother to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. Erik brushes them away with patient fingers and presses a salt-tinged kiss to Charles’ lips.

“Look and see for yourself.”

“You mean…?”

Erik reaches down and takes Charles’ fingers in his. He gives them a light squeeze before pressing them to his own temples. Charles stares into his grey-green eyes uncertainly.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Look, Charles.”

He takes a steadying breath and presses inside Erik’s mind cautiously. Once he is past Erik’s shields, he feels like he’s been struck in the chest. It’s been so long since he was here in any meaningful way. Erik’s mind, as orderly as it ever was, unfurls before him in an aurora of orgasmic light. It’s all emotions at first: pain and anger, rage and uncertainty, grief lingering beneath the surface, but alongside it, just as strong if not stronger is a pervading warmth. It is desire and lust, contentment and amusement, belonging, and, most of all, so much _love_.

There is old love, love that has been worn and tested and even severed in some places by circumstance. Love for his parents, his sister, his uncle, his grandparents, for his Magda and Anya, and even for Natalya.

There is love made new. It is familial love for David, Lorna, Magnus, Peter and Wanda, platonic love for Marya and Django, love born of pride for what he is, love for mutantkind, and love for his Jewish roots.

There is romantic love. There is no shortage of that. It is warm and strangely fragrant.

It’s the smell of salt from the water where he and Charles first met, potpourri in the motel room where they first kissed, the petrichor that drifted into the windows on the night they first had sex, the old books in the study where they played chess, metal grinding against metal when Erik moved the satellite, the brandy on their tongues when they finally admitted their feelings for each other went beyond sexual attraction. It is the smell of wet sand and burning wreckage on a Cuban beach, of Texan sunlight baking pavements in November, of mediocre prison food, of alcohol mingling with sweat in Parisian sheets. It’s the smell of Charles’ body wash and shampoo, lingering in Erik’s nose even as he reluctantly leaves Charles’ bed at the crack of dawn every morning.

Charles pulls away with a choked sob, not able to withstand any more without getting lost.

“Do you still doubt me?”

Charles could barely see Erik through his tears, but he didn’t need to. He pulled him down into a desperate embrace, their lips crashing together with little finesse, but Charles didn’t care at that moment. His heart feels like it’s swelling in size, his throat feels raw, and his entire body is buzzing with happiness. There were probably things they’d need to discuss down the line, the logistics of all of this was yet to be hashed out, but that could wait.

 _“Never leave again,”_ Charles thought, still eagerly pressing their lips together.

_“I won’t, Charles. I won’t.”_


	6. Epilogue: 1980

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A button.

There are feet running around the hallway.

Charles lays in bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep in. He feels exhausted. He really shouldn’t have let Erik convince him to stay up late last night when he had already stayed up later than necessary going over school applications. The pleasure in the moment doesn’t seem as worth it now when he knows he isn’t going to get away with sleeping past 8 AM, even though it is summer. He blames Erik for his younger children being early birds. At least David had the decency not to wake up at ungodly hours.

“Must you be so dramatic,” Erik mumbles behind him, clutching Charles’ waist tighter.

“Considering your super-fertility got me in this mess, yes.”

Erik snorts a little and presses a kiss to his neck.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Obviously, you seduced my better judgment away from me. I couldn’t do a proper cost-benefit analysis when you were fucking my brains out, unfortunately. Get some pants for us.”

They had had so many naked mishaps that they should know better than to sleep naked, but again, Charles blames Erik. Plus, he was the one who taught Lorna how to open doors with her powers, effectively ending any chance at guaranteed privacy for them. Erik mumbles something that is probably a protest at Charles’ train of thought, but he ignores it, using the bar above the bed to pull himself up. He glances at the clock as he rubs a hand over his face, 7:08 AM. Even earlier than usual, but he supposes everyone is a little excited today. It is Luna’s first birthday, after all.

Charles is still a little thrown by the situation there. Wanda and Peter had gone off on their round-the-world trip after they got their high school diplomas. It was supposed to just be a year, but Wanda got a taste for philanthropy, and Peter got hit with wanderlust, so a year became four years. Wanda had come back a self-assured, confident young woman. Peter came back married with a kid on the way. Crystal was a perfectly lovely, if secretive girl. He didn’t know much about her. She didn’t have powers but claims to have family that does, though she stipulates they aren’t mutants. She doesn’t talk much about her family or her past, beyond traveling with Peter, seeing the world. They got married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator for reasons Charles couldn’t fathom before exploring some more and returning to Westchester when they discovered Crystal was pregnant… seven months after they found out she was pregnant.

It was a shock, to say the least, to have Peter show up with a heavily pregnant wife. Charles had been certain Erik and Marya’s collective emotions were going to level the mansion, but they managed to let some semblance of peace abide. Having a new baby in the house wasn’t a wholly unfamiliar or unpleasant situation anyway. Erik took to being an Opa better than Charles thought he would. No mid-life crisis or drinking benders or lamenting his advancing age, just quiet acceptance. Not that Erik needed to worry about his age. He didn’t have a gray hair in sight, and he certainly wasn’t getting uglier. Charles glances over at him, appreciating his lover’s naked behind.

Erik snorts as Charles’ thoughts take a lewd turn.

“I don’t think we have time for that. I thought I got it out of your system last night.”

“Mmm, until tonight,” Charles replies, sending Erik an image of his intentions.

“You complain about my virility, but then you tempt me with ideas like that,” he points out, pulling on sweatpants and a t-shirt before throwing a pair at Charles.

“Well, that vasectomy should take care of our worries in those regards.”

Erik approaches the bed as Charles pulls on his pants, standing at the end of the mattress.

“Only you could’ve convinced me to do something so asinine.”

“My womb didn’t think it was asinine. It thought it was the best thing to happen in modern medicine since smallpox was eradicated.”

Erik stares at him for a second before grabbing his leg and pulling him towards him.

“The kids are coming soon,” Charles tries to protest through laughter as Erik crawls on top of him and starts pressing kisses to his face.

“Should’ve thought of that before,” Erik replies, pressing a kiss to his lips. Charles allows the kiss to linger before the all too familiar brush of his younger children’s minds getting closer causes his better judgment to prevail.

“They really are coming now.”

Erik relents and lets Charles drag himself back to the head of the bed so he can lean against his pillows. Erik settles next to him, and they situate themselves into as innocent a pose as they can just before the door bursts open. The room is immediately filled with excited chatter and greetings.

“Good morning, Papa,” Lorna practically yells as she jumps on Charles’ legs. It’s one of the few times he’s glad he can’t feel them, otherwise he’d be in pain. Erik can’t say the same. Charles hears him grunt in pain as Magnus and Nina jump on him. Magnus crawls to settle between Erik and Charles’ bodies while Nina cheerfully gives Erik a bear hug, cuddling into his chest. He rolls his eyes but hugs her back tightly.

Charles had not planned on having any more children. Between David, Lorna, Magnus, Kurt, and all his students, he had more than enough on his plate. Of course, he never planned his two previous pregnancies either, and he and Erik weren’t exactly being careful. They had an active sex life and didn’t use condoms or any other kind of contraception. Pregnancy was an inevitable conclusion. Nina Ruth Xavier-Lehnsherr was born in 1977, a brunette beauty with Charles’ eyes (finally). Charles made Erik get a vasectomy the same year. He didn’t trust condoms alone to be strong enough to combat Erik’s sperm’s determination to procreate as much as possible. Nina rounded out their not-so-little family perfectly. Charles wasn’t happy about having to be sequestered during the later stages of his pregnancy to keep it a secret, but beyond that, he and Erik got to experience firsthand all the things they missed with David and the twins. They were together for her first ultrasound. Charles was able to project her thoughts to Erik from the womb. Erik felt her kick inside of him. He was there for Charles’ health scares, for his mood swings and cravings. Erik was the one who named her. Charles thought it was only fair. Because of that, Erik and Nina had a special bond that Charles wouldn’t say was greater than the ones he had with his other children, it was just different.

“We’re going to have cake today, right Vati?” Nina asks, looking up at Erik with wide blue eyes. He smiles down at her and presses a kiss to her nose, drawing a giggle from her.

“Yes, liebling, but that will be much later this afternoon. We have to make sure everyone is awake, and the house is decorated for Luna’s first birthday.”

“David says it doesn’t matter,” Magnus states, stretching out across their laps. Lorna pokes him sharply when he accidentally kicks her, he pokes her back in the head with his toes, displacing her green locks.

“It’s her first birthday, of course it matters,” he says, giving them a warning look before they start a fight on top of him. It’s too early for that.

“She won’t even remember.”

Charles looks up to see David leaning against the door jamb, his brunette hair messy and his eyes drooping from sleep, or maybe that’s the pot he’s not supposed to know him, Scott and Warren sometimes smoke. Charles had wanted to freak out at him about it and blow up even more at Raven, who introduced him to it in the first place, but Erik says it’s better he does it now than later, and its nothing worse than what they’ve done. He promised to deal with it if it progressed to anything beyond an occasional joint, so Charles left it alone.

“Luna might not remember, but we will. And we’ll take lots of pictures for her to see when she’s older. Besides that, it’ll show Crystal we fully accept her into the family. Plus, Raven is bringing Irene and Anna Marie around. You know how nervous Kurt is about meeting them. It’ll help to have things happening to distract him and have other people as a buffer if need be.”

David approaches the bed and flops down by Erik and Charles’ feet, stretching his long body across the mattress. Sometimes Charles can hardly believe the time has passed so fast. David will be starting his senior year in September. Before Charles knows it, he’ll be off to college and then the larger world. He has no idea how he’s going to get through that. Probably with a few tears. David shoots him a knowing smile.

“It’s not like you’re going to be an empty nester or anything, Papa.”

“I know that, but that’s not the point. You’re going to be an adult in less than a year, it’s just… daunting. You’re going to go off to some ivy league and become a psychiatrist and probably only visit on Christmases.”

Charles notices Erik and David share a look between them.

“I don’t know about ivy leagues, I’m nowhere near as smart as Mr. Gifted and Talented over here,” he starts, ruffling Magnus’ hair,

“But you’re being weirdly maudlin. You sure you aren’t pregnant again?”

“Don’t ever wish such ill on me,” Charles retorts, causing David to laugh.

“He thinks I’m going to have a mid-life crisis because I’m a grandfather, but really he’s the one who should be worried. A couple hairs have fallen out, and he’s having a nervous breakdown about it,” Erik tells David, levitating a giggling Nina a foot above him before letting her drop back to his chest.

“I am not, and my hair is perfectly fine,” he protests, running a hand through the long strands. A few more strands than usual had been coming out in the brush lately, but his hair was as perfect and maintained as it ever was. He couldn’t help but remember his older self. He had been bald, but Charles was determined for that to be the very far future. Erik and David both snort, and Charles shoots them a sneer. They were always ganging up on him. Magnus sits up and looks at him.

“I like your hair, Papa.”

Charles smiles broadly at him.

“Thank you. At least someone appreciates me around here.”

“I do too!” Lorna protests.

“Me three,” Nina adds, not to be left out.

Charles smiles and gives the three of them the telepathic equivalent of a kiss. They all giggle, and David raises an eyebrow.

“What? None for Vati and me?”

“You’ve not earned it, I don’t think.”

David gives him a disappointed pout, and Charles rolls his eyes.

“Alright, fine,” he grumbles, allowing David and Erik to feel the same action. They reciprocate across their bonds, and Charles perks up. Just then, he feels the minds of the others in the family wing become active as they trickle into the kitchen.

“Everyone’s getting up, it’s about time for us to do the same.”

Lorna reaches out and summons his wheelchair to his side using her powers. He pats her hair for a job well done. They had a long day ahead of them. There were the festivities and Raven’s visit and then more applications to go through and any other number of little crises that tended to pop up during the day.

“You ready?” Erik asks next to him.

Charles looks over at him, the man he’s woken up to almost every day for the last five years, the one he shares his family with, his school with, his life with. He smiles widely at him, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips, ignoring the childish exclamations of disgust.

“I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was determined to fit Nina in there somewhere and I managed it. I’m a little bummed I wasn’t able to get Xandra in there too but shoutout to her and any other Magneto or Professor X kid I forgot. There are too many damn versions. Lol.  
> This fic was definitely a journey for me. It was my first foray into a long-form Cherik story, the last one I did was only 2k. It was also the first mpreg story I’ve done in over five years. I was uniquely determined to finish this one and I’m glad I have. Thank you to everyone who has read and left kudos.  
> A special thank you to Phtalocyanine, TaylorAriel, Oh_Toasty, Kay++southern, XxBlack_KitsunexX, rosegoddess221, and RevEins who commented.  
> I hope this story could at least give everyone a pleasant way to kill the time during this difficult period in our history. I hope everyone is safe, and healthy, both physically and mentally.


End file.
